


Cash In

by FantasySwap



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bondage, Breathplay, Choking, Dom/sub, Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Klaus has telekinesis, M/M, Praise Kink, Rimming, Subspace, he can levitate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-11-12 01:38:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 50,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18001343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasySwap/pseuds/FantasySwap
Summary: In October of 1989, Sir Reginald Hargreeves adopts six extraordinary children.One of Germany’s thousands of Juvenile Group Homes for Boys gets Klaus.***In which Klaus is one of the 43 children born with extraordinary abilities, but not one of the ones Hargreeves adopted.Translation into Russianhere!Fanarthereandhere!





	1. Chapter 1

1999 - Age 10:

Klaus’ best friend is called Ana, she’s thirteen years old and she’s been dead for over a decade. That’s as long as Klaus has been alive and, as she likes to point out to him when she’s feeling particularly morbid, Klaus was probably born in the same year that she died. It doesn’t matter though, because Ana doesn’t really mind the fingermarks around her neck and the way she can only ever talk with a croaky voice. She misses her family a lot, but that’s what Klaus is there for and she’s always with him.

It doesn’t take long for Klaus to figure out that other people can’t actually see Ana, but by the time he does realise it’s already too late. The other kids think he’s a freak and the social workers tell him he’s crazy, lock him in his room for hours and won’t let him out for dinner until he promises he won’t talk about his weird imaginary friends. It’s a shame, Klaus decides, because Ana is actually really sweet and if they got to know her he thinks they’d like her.

 

He doesn’t necessarily question why he can see dead people and no one else can, because it’s never a problems. Until, one day, it is.

———

2019 - Age 30:

Klaus can’t feel his fingers or his toes. He’s wearing a dangerously tight pair of black jeans that are sort of cutting off his air flow, a black and white crop top that’s probably three sizes too small for him, and a stolen pair of boots that have seen better days. It’s really no surprise that he’s cold, but it still sucks ass and standing outside the grand building with the iconic umbrella symbol on the door, it’s hard to tell himself his skimpy outfit is so that his clothes don’t hold him back. 

 

He’s a little bit terrified, actually, so it’s hard to tell himself anything at the moment. He’s robbed places before of course - he’s needed to, to survive on the streets - but never anywhere as high class and sophisticated as this. The places and people he’s stolen from so far have all been on the same level as him: squatters, mainly, and as low as stealing from homeless people is Klaus likes to think it’s a less serious offence when you too are homeless.

 

This is on a whole other level. If he does this and gets caught he’s in for serious jail time, nothing like the short stints he’s done in prison before now for petty crime. Maybe smoking that last joint before he came here wasn’t such a good idea, but he needed something to calm his nerves and weed was his best bet. He still has that little bag of ecstasy waiting for him when he gets home - if he makes it home, that is - which he can use as either a consolation prize for if he doesn’t get anything worth while or a celebration for if he does.

 

Either way, he’s getting stoned tonight and he can’t fucking wait.

 

He has no clue who’s home at the moment; for all Klaus knows the entire academy could be right in the hallway and as soon as he even sticks his head through the door they’ll be ready to beat him to a pulp. He’s only even giving this a try because Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric inventor but most importantly _billionaire_ , has just passed away and it’s all over the fucking news. Klaus really hadn’t been planning to do anything at first, but the more he just tried to live out his everyday drug addicted homeless hooker life, the more the news of Hargreeves’ death seemed to follow him everywhere he went and the more he actually thought about it.

 

What was he doing, really, other than cashing in on what should have been his inheritance? If his mother was going to dump him in some shitty group home anyway then why couldn’t she just have sold him off to a billionaire? He wouldn’t have grown up in fucking poverty, would have had everything he’s ever needed, and so what if Hargreeves had been a terrible father? Klaus never had a father so it wouldn’t have been much different. God, who could have predicted a state child turned homeless kid would grow up to be so bitter and fucked up? Total mystery.

 

The door is open when Klaus pushes it, looking around furtively - probably being completely conspicuous whilst he’s at it - and really, for a group of supposed wonder kids they aren’t very fucking smart. New York is a dangerous place and they could have far more serious break ins than Klaus and his powers. Someone with an actual intent to harm could come looking for them, and they’d have practically held the door open for them, and then where would the world be?

 

They’re not in the hall, thankfully. In fact there’s nothing in the hall but a set of different pathways and Klaus has no idea which one to take. There’s a set of stairs leading up to what must be the famous second floor of the children’s bedrooms, a hallway leading into what looks like a library or a sitting room, and a mysterious set of stairs going down to Klaus’ right. If Klaus was an eccentric inventor, child stealer and billionaire, where would he hide all the valuable objects?

 

Klaus tries the sitting room first. Libraries are always a horde of rare artefacts in billionaire’s houses, right? And it is a fucking horde, but of books instead of golden jewel embedded statues like Klaus had hoped. Klaus has literally never seen more books, and for a second there’s a tight lump in his throat and a memory surging up like vomit that he tries to swallow back down. There’s no use crying over spilt milk, and his childhood was a whole fucking flood of milk. Ew, Klaus thinks. He’s definitely too high to be here right now, but it’s too late to leave now.

 

He runs his hands along the spines of the novels, all bound in pretty, captivating covers, investigating each title. Some of them sound interesting, others boring, but only one really captures Klaus’ attention for long. ‘Extraordinary’ by Vanya Hargreeves. Klaus thinks he remembers that name.

 

He reaches out tentatively to slide the book off the shelf just to jog his memory when there’s a sudden whistling sound like a belt cutting through the air and then there’s a knife lodged into the wall by Klaus’ head. Klaus blinks at it dumbly for a few brief second before he gingerly extracts it from the wall and holds the sharp blade in his palm. It isn’t cutting him yet but he likes to know that it could— just a tease of the damage he could inflict.

 

Klaus turns around slowly. There’s a man approaching him slowly from the other side of the room, knife in one hand and a dangerous gleam in his eye. This is Diego, Klaus rememberers from TV all those years ago when The Umbrella Academy was a big deal. The knife thrower; if he’d wanted that knife to hit Klaus, it would have done, and that thought is mildly reassuring.

 

Diego walks towards him like he’s had to do this a million times, and Klaus gets it, really he does. With his tatty clothes and messy hair and smeared make up he probably looks like any old homeless dude that wandered into a mansion to try his luck. Diego has no reason to suspect that this is anything other than a routine burglary. Klaus can’t hold back a self satisfied grin. He loves it when people underestimate him. They underestimated him in the group home back in Germany, and look what happened to them.

 

Or don’t. Klaus doesn’t like to think about it, even though it reminds him of his abilities and the power he holds.

 

“What the fuck are you smiling at?” Diego barks at him, rounding the sofa to grab him by the collar and haul him upwards, slamming his back into the wall intimidatingly. Klaus is staring at the man who, in a parallel universe, could have been his brother. He could have loved this man, and been loved in return, but no. Diego lives here and Klaus lives nowhere and no one will ever love Klaus, so he learnt to love the drugs he puts into himself. They help keep the spirits away, as well as the cold, sickening feelings of rejection and loneliness that threaten to drag him underwater and drown him every time he closes his eyes.

 

In all honesty, Klaus has been in worse situations than this consensually - he likes it rough, what can he say? - but being so close to someone who could have been his family is kind of throwing Klaus off his game. For a split second he’s breathless, speechless, staring into Diego’s face. The Umbrella Academy kids haven’t been big in the media lately, with the exception of Allison of course, and he looks so different. There’s a long, pale scar running along the side of his face that Klaus doesn’t remember from the promotional pictures when they were kids. It makes him laugh, exhausted and humourless.

 

“I _said_ ,” Diego shakes him, the muscles in his arms flexing as Klaus’ feet dangle uselessly above the ground. He may be on the verge of a beating, but he can still appreciate attractive guys! “What the _fuck_ are you laughing at?”

 

“Now just… just calm down.” Klaus holds up his hands in the universal gesture for surrender. He watches as Diego takes in the, ‘hello, goodbye’ inked on each palm, sees the sneer and the curled lip as he makes assumptions and judgements. Diego lets him go, dusting off his hands and folding his arms over his chest. He lets out a low whistle.

 

“Guys!” He calls over his shoulder, still with half a smirk frozen on his face. Then, turning to Klaus, he says, “Drop everything you got, and maybe we won’t press charges.”

 

It strikes Klaus as a little ridiculous that the wonderkid’s threat is jail time and not a beat down. Maybe they’ve gone straight edge after all.

 

Still, shit. This isn’t good. One of them is fine - Diego alone is fine, because Klaus can escape him with hardly any witnesses and there’s no way Diego will recognise a runaway junkie orphan in a city with thousands of them - but all of them? Klaus can’t take all of them at once, even with telekinesis and his ability to levitate. If Allison arrives then Klaus is totally fucked - won’t be able to control himself (any more than he already can, that is.)

 

Klaus can hear footsteps coming his way and, Jesus, he didn’t think this through. He’s not ready for this. He needs to get out of here urgently; that urgency translates to panic and of course when Klaus panics, things go wrong.

 

Klaus flexes his little finger - he’s had all his life to practice and this is all he needs to do to activate his power now - and Diego stumbles backwards a few paces. He has to keep it light or he could seriously hurt the man. He’s not here to do that.

 

“I’m really sorry.” Klaus breathes out in a rush, landing heavily on his feet. “I’d love to stay and chat. But I’ve gotta go. Got a joint back home with my name on it, y’know?” Not strictly true, but Klaus’ childhood hero doesn’t need to know he’s homeless. It’s probably already obvious to be honest, but fuck if Klaus will confirm it.

 

“What the fuck?” Diego mumbles, looking down at his feet like they’ve personally betrayed him and then up at Klaus. “How did you—”

 

Klaus jerks his head to the side and an expensive looking vase topples off the chest of drawers it’s balanced on, toppling to the floor and smashing into a thousand shards noisily. Diego spins around, hands already on his knives like he’s permanently poised for danger, and Klaus takes the opportunity to get the fuck out of there. He runs faster than his body is probably meant to, hopping over the sofa and proud of himself when he lands on the other side without even needing to use his levitation. He’s heading for the front door and he’s so fucking close as well, another two strides and he’d be there, but then there’s a flash of blue light and a boy standing in his way. A kid, actually, in an old fashioned school uniform with shorts and a tie. Five, then. Shit.

 

Klaus swerves at the last second, heading for the stairs leading to the second floor. There must be some sort of back entrance; in a house this big there must be at least two flights of stairs, surely? Maybe Klaus can lose these guys, double back on himself and get out onto the street before they even notice they’re not following him anymore. If push comes to shove, he can always jump out the window. It won’t be the first time he’s done it.

 

The upstairs looks way nicer than the downstairs, Klaus notices as he’s hurtling through the corridor, and he wishes he’d thought to try up here first. Out of the corner of his eye he notices one of the doors he dashes past creak up and a woman steps outside, looking from side to side in confusion, before stepping back in surprise as Diego rushes past her.

 

This is Klaus’ chance. If he jumps over the railing now he can make it to the front door before anyone else could catch him. He can do this, he can—

 

He hops over the balcony surrounding the upper floor, gathering energy in his fingertips and his bare feet and then he’s floating, sinking. The familiar, comforting feeling of levitation takes over him and settles deep in his chest. He can hear muffled gasps and mutters of, “What the fuck?” He can hear the scrabble to turn around and get back down the stairs but Klaus is already there, landed safely and now heading for the door.

 

He’s almost there, he’s gonna make it, and then he blinks. In the space of a millisecond the empty hallway is now no longer empty: there’s a man planted firmly in front of the door, what looks like tentacles protruding from his stomach just under his t-shirt. Ben?

 

“Ben?” Klaus parrots his thoughts, sliding to a messy stop before he slams into him. Then realisation sets in and Klaus swears. “Fuck, aren’t you…”

 

“Dead?” Ben grins, nodding. “Yeah.”

 

This is the last thing Klaus sees before someone - Diego probably, angry at Klaus having escaped him earlier - knocks him over the head with something heavy and flat, and he face plants on the cold tile floor.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit thank you to everyone who left kudos/commented on the last chapter <3

2003 - Aged 14:

 

Ana’s been gone for months now, ever since Stefan locked Klaus in the basement overnight. There were so many of them then, all of them screaming at him and clawing at the cages of his mind until he wasn’t sure whether he was on the side of reality or unconsciousness. He had shut everything off that night, shut them all out, and his friend hadn’t come back since. Whether or not it’s because she’s upset that Klaus sent her away or because she physically can’t come back Klaus isn’t sure, but he misses her. Without her, he’s just another lonely soul in a sea of lonely souls.

 

He’s older now. He no longer sees the world’s imperfections as unfortunate coincidences, and his Group Home is the most imperfect place he knows. Every fault in the universe is caused by someone or something, and it’s usually deliberate. He knows that with Stefan it’s deliberate— knows that each time the man pushes him or trips him or locks him in a small, dark room it’s on purpose. It’s a specifically designed torture chamber just for Klaus, for Stefan’s favourite delinquent.

 

Like now. It’s late, and Klaus shouldn’t be up but he is because he’s been trying to conjure Ana for the past three hours. He didn’t come down for dinner, because they wouldn’t have wanted him and because it would have broken the thin veil of concentration he’s allowed to descend over him. It’s dark and he’s sitting in the corner of his room, facing the wall because as much as it makes his heart skip a beat with panic it helps him to focus, when he hears the door creak open.

 

It’s Stefan. Klaus knows that before the man is even closing the door behind himself, shutting them in together. Klaus feels more claustrophobic now than he did when he was locked in the basement, pitch black smothering him whilst ghosts wailed into his ear.

 

“Hey, buddy.” Stefan says softly, crouching down next to him. It’s patronising - Klaus is fourteen now, and has seen things that this fully grown man could never comprehend - but Stefan loves thinking he’s better than everybody else so Klaus isn’t surprised. “Didn’t see you at dinner tonight. I brought you some food.”

 

Klaus shuffles backwards a bit, back pressed into the wall until he’s well and truly trapped with nowhere else to run. He imagines if he tried to open the door, he’d find himself locked in. Stefan cocks an eyebrow, faux look of surprise on his repulsive face. He stretches out an arm, pats Klaus’ bouncy hair.

 

“What’s wrong?” His eyes travel down Klaus’ body. He’s wearing a thin pair of tracksuits and a hole ridden t-shirt; it’s winter, and he’s cold, but this is all the Home will give them to wear. Stefan’s gaze settles on his chest, his nipples visible through the translucent fabric, and Klaus fights off a shiver. He feels dirty just by having this man’s eyes on him, sick to his stomach.

 

When Stefan reaches out to touch him, Klaus jerks back. He feels trapped like a caged animal, panic rising notch by notch until he can barely breathe through his contracting lungs. His hands start to glow blue and bright, and suddenly then there’s Ana, and a screaming crying noise that Klaus thinks might not just be in his head. Stefan isn’t touching him anymore though so he holds on through the pain in his hands and chest, the burning sensation spreading throughout his body.

 

Then it isn’t just in his body anymore. Stefan is screaming along with Ana and everything is burning around him. Klaus climbs out the window and makes it five metres across the snowy lawn before the whole building and everyone inside it goes up in flames.

 

2019 - Aged 30:

 

When Klaus wakes up he’s tied to a chair. His head is throbbing and it feels a little wet above his right eyebrow like maybe he’s bleeding and the blood hasn’t been wiped away. His hands are behind his back, ropes so tight around his wrists that the skin there has already begun to chafe even though he’s not been moving. Or maybe he has, in his unconscious state, he doesn’t know.

 

There are five people and a ghost in front of him. Klaus recognises all of them, but he doesn’t recognise the expression on their faces. There’s disgust of course, and disdain which is all familiar to him, but there’s something else as well. Klaus isn’t quite narcissistic enough to think it’s awe or that they’re impressed by him, but arguably it’s something even better.

 

Interest. They’re _interested_ in him, and Klaus hasn’t had anybody interested in him in such a long time. Interested in his body maybe, interested in what he can do for them. But his power is an intimate, secret thing that he’s tried to hide ever since he found out that it made him a freak, a party trick at best, and not someone worth getting to know. These people are looking at him like the only thing they want to be doing right now is figuring him out.

 

It kinda gets him hot.

 

“Good afternoon,” he groans, stretching his neck and pushing his shoulders forward until he hears a satisfying crack. He shakes himself out as much as he can when he’s bound to an uncomfortable wooden chair. “Gah, needed that. What’s going on, guys?”

 

“Who are you?” Says the kid who Klaus recognises to be Five. Klaus remembers vividly everything about them from back when he was a kid - when they were all kids - but things have changed since then, it would appear. Five is at the front, leading the crew now. Luther has been relegated to third place, behind Diego and Five. Allison is standing next to Luther, hands inches apart - the rumours were true, Klaus is completely unsurprised to discover - and at the very back is Vanya. She was never a part of the group but Klaus has always liked her best: he knows what it’s like to grow up surrounded by a world so completely foreign to you that it feels like it would be better off if you had never even been there.

 

Ben is guarding the door, like he had been earlier.

 

“A legal citizen of America, who wants to exorcise his legal rights to place you under a citizens arrest!” Klaus declares, tilting his chin upwards. Five narrows his eyes at this sarcastic sort of response and Luther just blinks, confused probably, but Klaus detects just the barest hint of a smile from Diego. He beams at the man, fluttering his eyelashes. It can’t look particularly good since his face must be smeared with blood and kohl but Diego frowns at him, blushing through his scowl.

 

“But you’re the one that committed a crime.” Luther points out, perplexed. “What could you possibly arrest us for?” Klaus is used to the bafflement by now, and if he could he’d hold up his, “goodbye,” hand in this gigantic man’s face then he totally would. 

“How about non consensual BDSM, huh?” Klaus wriggles experimentally, catching Diego’s eye again when he strains agains the ropes. “I’m all for being tied up, but you didn’t even ask for my safe word. Shame on you guys!”

 

Five kicks him in the shin.

 

“Ow!” Klaus cries, hissing through his teeth at the bitchy little man child. He should have known this not-kid would cause him the most trouble, with his ‘no bullshit’ attitude and his tendency to lean towards impatience. “Let me go!”

 

“We both know that’s not going to happen.” Five crosses his arms over his skinny chest, cherubic school boy tie swaying comically against his white dress shirt.

 

“Besides,” Diego cuts in, surprising everyone. “You don’t need our help to do that, do you?” Klaus’ head snaps up to glare at Diego, gritting his teeth. Yeah, it’s not like he’d expected to use his powers in front of the goddamned Umbrella Academy and have them ask no questions, but to be fair he had been expecting to get away. Diego has just broken what Klaus assumes had been a unanimous - temporary - vow of silence on the subject.

 

Sure enough, Five sighs frustratedly. “I thought we’d agreed not to bring that up yet, Diego?” He growls condescendingly— as dangerous as a thirteen year old’s prepubescent voice can sound, Klaus imagines.

 

“You all saw what he could do, right?” Diego responds incredulously, gesturing wildly to where Klaus is sitting. “He _flew_. I don’t know about you guys, but normal people can’t fly. Normal people don’t try and rob the Umbrella Academy either. So why don’t you let me ask him, Five, since you don’t seem to be getting any results. Who are you?”

 

“Klaus.” Klaus says simply, swallowing. “My name is Klaus, but you can call me whatever you want. Provided you pay the right amount, of course. Pleasure to meet you all.” He winks at Allison who looks at him with another expression of confused amusement, like she doesn’t know whether she’s allowed to find him funny or not. Tragically funny, maybe: there goes Klaus, poor guy’s probably going to overdose before he’s twenty-five. Ha, ha.

 

“How’d you get your power?” Five demands, cutting Diego off before he even has the chance to reply. Klaus snorts, shaking his head at them.

 

“You guys can’t really have thought that out of forty three kids, you were the only ones that had powers?” Five and Diego look like they already pretty much knew the answer to this, but Luther is watching Klaus with wide eyes like maybe this actually is the first time he’s ever considered that possibility. Yikes, Klaus hates to be the bearer of bad news.

 

“What did you mean,” Vanya says suddenly, surprising them all. “When you stopped in front of the door? You had a free run, you could have gotten out, but you stopped. You said, ‘Ben.’ What did you mean?”

 

Klaus’ eyes flicker to Ben’s ghost behind the rest of the group, standing guard by the door. Klaus can’t imagine how horrible it must have been for him to wander the halls of his childhood home, empty and alone for years, only to have them all return suddenly so that they’re all right there and he still can’t talk to them. He still isn’t really _there_ , not really.

 

“It’s okay,” Ben tells him clearly. “You can tell them.”

 

“Why would I do that?” Klaus bristles at the suggestion. This was all a terrible mistake: coming here, trying to steal from them. But most of all getting caught was a mistake, and Klaus intends to leave as soon as possible. They already know his name and that’s more than they should ever know— he doesn’t want them to know his power.

 

If they know his power then they know him, inside and out. The most intimate parts of himself, because sometimes he thinks his powers are a curse, the worst thing to ever happen to him, and other times he thinks they’re the only thing that makes him interesting. He cannot tell these strangers, even if said strangers have curses of their own.

 

“That’s... what I just asked you?” Vanya laughs a little, high pitched and nervous, misinterpreting Klaus’ response to Ben as his response to her. He grumbles.

 

“Wasn’t talking to you,” he mutters, ignoring the shared looks of, ‘what is this guy on?’ that circulate through the room after that. “Listen, I really need to piss and if none of you are gonna get me off then I’d appreciate if you untied me. Call the police or not, I don’t care, but I don’t like being trapped.”

 

This last bit is bullshit - if they even look like they’re about to call the cops Klaus is heading straight for the window, will knock all of them to the floor and keep them frozen there for as long as it takes for him to escape - but the rest is all true. He probably shouldn’t have had that last shot before he came out, but someone else was paying and Klaus is never going to turn down anything that’s free.

 

Five looks from Diego to Vanya - the only two siblings he seems to properly trust - as though trying to communicate something important. Vanya nods slightly and Five sighs in response, jerking his head over his shoulder at Luther and Allison.

 

“Emergency family meeting,” he instructs them. “Out here.”

 

They file out of the room one by one, following Five’s lead. Klaus doesn’t miss the way Diego throws a quick glance at him before he leaves, eyes lingering over the strip of exposed skin of Klaus’ waist in a way that doesn’t make him feel dirty. He winks at Diego, smiling when it just seems to make the man scowl harder and slam the door that much louder when they’re all out. This just leaves Klaus and Ben alone together.

 

“You really fucked me over back there, y’know.” Klaus spits at him, glaring and wishing he has his arms free so he could cross them. “I was so close and you had to go and ruin it.”

 

Ben pushes himself away from the wall and rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t about to let you steal from my family. Besides, things worked out okay for you didn’t they?”

 

“I got hit over the head with a frying pan and I’m tied to a chair.” Klaus snorts, enunciating every syllable obnoxiously clearly so that he can’t be misconstrued in any way. “I’ve been in worse situations, but I wouldn’t really say this has worked out okay.”

 

Ben watches him for a moment, evaluating. He smiles like he knows something Klaus doesn’t which is ridiculous because he doesn’t know Klaus, doesn’t know anything about his life, but it’s disconcerting nonetheless. Finally, he shrugs.

 

“We’ll see.” He says, and it sounds more like, ‘you’ll see.’

 

Abruptly the door is swinging open and Ben disappears in front of Klaus’ eyes. Diego brushes in irritably like he’s just been in a heated argument with his siblings. He looks around the room suspiciously as though he expects one of Klaus’ junkie friends - like he has any - to jump out from behind a wall somewhere and attack him.

 

“Who are you talking to.” He asks.

 

“Who do you think?” Klaus snaps back at him, realising that Diego won’t actually know that Klaus has been talking to his deceased brother and will in fact assume that he was talking to himself. He probably thinks Klaus is still high— maybe he is. Diego dismisses this with a wave of his hand and moves to stand in front of Klaus, planting himself firmly between Klaus and the door.

 

“If we agree to let you go, will you stay?” Diego asks, somehow managing to sound sullen, hopeful, impartial and reluctantly intrigued all in one sentence. Klaus raises an eyebrow doubtfully.

 

“That… doesn’t really make much sense.” He says eventually, humouring Diego who hastens to reply.

 

“We just want to talk.” He promises Klaus. “About your power. And you. We’ve never met anybody else like us before and it’s… a shock. I always kinda wanted to, I just didn’t expect you to be robbing our house when I finally did. You can’t really blame us for tying you up.”

 

“Clearly,” Klaus says dryly, eyes glancing up to stare at his blood smeared forehead. Diego winces and fumbles around in his pocket for a second. When he finds what he’s looking for he draws out, inexplicably, a packet of tissues and sets about wiping the blood away from Klaus’ face. He’s gentle with his motions, soft and careful with just enough added force and pressure to actually get the job done. Klaus decides he likes being fussed over like this.

 

“Yeah, Uh… sorry about, um, hitting you over the head with a frying pan.” Diego stutters out, tripping over his own words. “You had just flown down the stairs.”

 

“I _levitated_.” Klaus corrects automatically, a force of habit even though he’s never shown anyone his powers before. “And is that what it was? Why did you even have a frying pan lying around the hallway in the first place?”

 

“Mom was making pancakes— look, that’s not important!” Diego flushes a muted shade of red. It looks good on him, and fuck, Klaus is blushing now? How does that work? Is he still high? “Just answer my question, please. If we agree to let you go without a fuss, will you talk to us about your power for a little bit? We aren’t going to expose you and tell anyone. We just want to talk. Promise.” Diego looks so young and hopeful and vulnerable when he utters the last word that Klaus, used to being the pretty boy people take chances on and not the one taking chances on a pretty boy, is powerless to do anything other than agree.

 

“Yeah, okay. Get me out of these, yeah? I really gotta pee, man.” Klaus shuffles forward a few tiny steps, the chair legs thunking down onto the ground each time. Diego tilts his head, considering.

 

“Do it yourself.” He doesn’t say it meanly, doesn’t say it in a bitter, selfish way that Klaus is used to hearing. He sounds genuinely curious, like he doesn’t realise his words have been used a million times before in harsher, crueller ways.

 

“I wanna see. Show me.” Diego continues, unaware of Klaus’ mental anguish. He sounds so plaintive that Klaus has an overwhelming urge to do whatever this man asks him to. Jeez, so maybe he hasn’t been laid in a while but that’s no reason for his brain to go fuzzy and haywire when a hot guy gives him an order.

 

They already know, Klaus figures, and Diego was controlled by his power earlier on. It’s not like he could make the situation any worse, and besides, he kind of wants to stick around and talk to Diego. The others as well; he supposes it must be part of the deal, but Diego is kind. He’s tough, clearly, but he’s also looking at Klaus with something that resembles friendliness, and there’s that interest again.

 

Diego isn’t looking at him like a freak. He’s not thinking of how much money he can make from this or like Klaus is some bizarre science experiment. He’s looking at Klaus like he’s something special, and Klaus can’t remember the last time anyone looked at him like that.

 

So he looks down meekly and, in a small voice, says, “Can you untie my feet?” At Diego’s skeptical look, he continues. “No, seriously. It won’t work unless my feet are free.”

 

Diego still doesn’t seem convinced but he kneels down in front of Klaus’ chair and starts unwinding the rope from around his ankles. Diego on his knees at Klaus’ feet is kind of a beautiful sight; the man has broad shoulders and a sculpted body under that leather costume. When he looks up and flicks a lock of hair back from his forehead Klaus practically swoons, and Diego smiles like he finds Klaus endearing or something.

 

“Ah, that’s better.” Klaus extends his legs and points his toes, ballet style, until his joints click. “Thanks.”

 

Klaus’ heart stutters painfully when Diego puts his hands on Klaus’ knees to push himself up. Diego doesn’t acknowledge the gratitude, just jerks his head at the chair Klaus is sitting in.

 

“Do it.” He demands again.

 

Klaus bites the inside of his cheek and places his feet flat on the ground. He can feel the energy burning up inside him in his fingertips and his toes; his skin feels warm and tingly and when he closes his eyes he pictures the ropes untying themselves, just sliding off and falling to the floor in a messy heap. The burning sensation around his chest and wrists lets him know that it’s working, and then suddenly he can move again.

 

When he blinks open his eyes blearily, Diego is staring at him, eyes wide and intrigued. They’re silent for a few beats, watching each other with quiet curiosity, when Diego steps forward and holds out a hand for him to take.

 

“Nice to meet you.” He says. “I’m Diego.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on tumblr @fantasyxswap and you can leave me prompts if you want! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just reiterate how fucking amazing you all are?? <3

2003 - Aged 14:

 

Klaus makes it half way to Berlin before he stops to take a breath, or that’s what it feels like at least. He hasn’t let himself slow down or hesitate, because if he does he’ll think about Stefan’s eyes as he caught fire, the heat licking at his heels as he ran away. There were almost thirty people in that building, and Klaus just killed every single one.

 

He’s been walking on the side of the road for about two hours - not hitchhiking, because no one stops for underdressed homeless looking teenagers in the middle of the night on an abandoned road - and as this thought resurfaces he doubles over and heaves, vomiting onto the grassy bank below. It’s dark and cold and Klaus didn’t have chance to grab anything before he left— he’s dressed in a thin t-shirt and a loose pair of tracksuits. He’ll freeze to death before he makes it anywhere.

 

He’s beginning to lose feeling in his fingers and toes by the time someone pulls up behind him, orange headlights illuminating the empty road ahead. It’s fairly dark now; the only noise is the rumbling of the car engine and the faint, distant sounds of an owl hooting. Klaus rubs his bare arms as the window rolls down and the man sitting behind the wheel is revealed. He’s not old, maybe middle aged, with short, cropped brown hair and a rumpled suit. He leers at Klaus, and Klaus can only imagine what he must be seeing: a kid, skinny and underdressed, goosebumps all over and teeth chattering. His hair is messy and the tip of his nose must be pink from the cold; his bare feet are soaked from walking through the snow and he feels exhausted from earlier, like all his power drained out of him in that brief ten seconds and now there’s nothing left.

 

“Hey kid,” the man calls through the open window, voice echoing through the trees like a ghostly whisper. “Where you headed?”

 

Klaus shrugs, both because he doesn’t think he’d be able to speak through the force of his shivers and because he just doesn’t have anywhere in mind. He has nowhere to go now— that place was never a safe haven for him but it was the only home he’s ever had, and now he’s destroyed that. He’s a runaway and probably a wanted criminal soon as well; it’s not like he has a lot of prospects. He doesn’t feel like saying any of this though, so of course he stays quiet. The man nods thoughtfully, then jerks his head.

 

“Hop in then,” He offers, sounding resigned yet amused, like he’s doing Klaus a massive favour and he wants Klaus to know that. “I’m going to Cologne, so I can take you as far as there if you want. Have to sleep in the car, but you look like you’re used to roughing it.” He winks lewdly at Klaus.

 

For a second, Klaus hesitates. He imagines what would happen if he smiled and politely declined this man’s offer, if the guy rolled his window back up and drove off. He might walk a bit further down the road and come across a nice family who offer to give him a home and a family and a better life. He snorts. Fat chance.

 

It’s ironic, he thinks, that he killed dozens of people to escape one pervert only to run right into the arms of another one.

 

“C’mon, kid.” The man urges, sounding irritated now. He’s been waiting for Klaus to make up his mind for too long now, he’s thinking maybe this child isn’t worth the effort. “Are you getting in or not?”

 

Klaus takes a deep breath, and gets in the car.

 

2019 - Aged 30:

 

As soon as Klaus is allowed out of his cage it’s pretty clear that, whilst Diego may have let him go, the others still don’t like him very much. Luther and Allison had exploded at Diego as soon as he’d lead Klaus to them, shouting some garbled mess about how he could be dangerous and he tried to rob us and why did you let him out? Five just shook his head in a disappointed acceptance and had disappeared for a few seconds only to return with a large margarita in his hand the next.

 

Now, they’re sitting in the living room that Klaus had tried to burgle just half an hour earlier. The broken vase is still lying in pieces on the floor and Klaus avoids looking at it, pointedly averting his eyes and whistling innocently when Allison purses her lips at him. It’s totally not his fault, Diego had him cornered and what was he supposed to do? Just give himself up?

 

“So, _Klaus_.” Five says his name with disdain, wrinkling his nose in the universal gesture for: you’re is a piece of trash and I know I’m better than you. Klaus is used to it by now, so it doesn’t bother him. “My brother tells me you have a power.”

 

It isn’t worded as a question, and Klaus guesses Five is used to getting exactly what he wants probably without even asking. Annoyingly, another surge of bitter jealousy rises in Klaus’ throat like vomit and he has to swallow it back down, crushing the thought of what life might have been like for him if he could get everything he wanted just by asking. Allison may be the one with the literal power, but the rest of them were rich and famous, and isn’t that pretty much the same thing?

 

“Oh, I’ve got many powers baby. Depends which one you want me to show you first.” He winks at Luther, looming ominously in the background. Diego cuffs him round the back of his head, but it doesn’t hurt too much so Klaus thinks maybe he’s trying to be nice. Maybe he’s just trying to warn him to cut the bullshit, because it won’t work with his siblings; if only Diego knew that the bullshit is all there is.

 

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in.” Five snaps at him, leaping from his chair to stand directly in front of Klaus. “If we think you’re so much as an infinitesimal threat to the safety of this planet and the people on it, we can make sure you never see the sky _again_. Do you get that?”

 

Klaus nods thoughtfully, tucking his legs up onto the sofa so that his bare feet aren’t on the cold tile of the floor anymore. He rests his chin on his knees and looks up at Five from under his eyelashes, black makeup still smeared around his eyes.

 

“If you’re offering to lock me up in your illicit sex dungeon,” Klaus says eventually, unable to take anything seriously, or more accurately unable to let anything be serious. “Then I just want you to know I’m okay with that.”

 

Diego lets out a heaving sigh and when Klaus looks over he has his head in his hands, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s got a migraine coming on. Klaus gets a sudden unpleasantly tight sensation in his chest, like he’s disappointed the man, and guilt settles thick and heavy in his stomach. It’s a horrible feeling, especially when he doesn’t have any drugs to dull it with, so he just has to ride it out and hope that it’ll go away.

 

“Look, no, okay.” He continues, wanting to get that interest back, wanting to impress these strangers for whatever foolish reason. “You want me to tell you about my power? Fine. I was born on the same day as all you guys, so I guess I was caused by whatever freak accident made you lot. I can… move things, with my mind. Including myself.”

 

“The levitation.” Diego says, eyes lighting up with understanding. He’s looking at Klaus again with an expression that wouldn’t be called pride but it’s something close; maybe pride in himself, justification for letting Klaus out. Despite this weird, twisted view, Klaus can’t help but find himself flushing a little, proud of making Diego proud. Maybe he’s just been sober for too long, that would explain his unexplainable mood.

 

Vanya looks intrigued like maybe she wants him to talk more about his powers - which Klaus would be totally fine with, because he loves talking about himself - but Five just looks unimpressed. He supposes to a dimension, time travelling thirteen slash fifty-eight year old man, simple telekinesis _would_ be boring. If there’s one thing Klaus hates being, it’s boring, and the urge to tell them all about Ben and his other ability is almost overwhelming for a second. But he swallows it down just like he did the jealousy, because there are some things that he has to keep to himself. Some parts of himself he doesn’t feel like giving away just yet.

 

“So why did you come here?” Allison asks him accusingly. Klaus wonders if she doesn’t like him because he almost hit her in the face with a door earlier. “Why try and steal from us? You must have known you weren’t gonna get away with it.”

 

“Allison—” Diego starts, sounding reprehensible, but Allison brushes it away with a sweep of her hand. Klaus, oddly touched that Diego would try and stand up for him, directs a smile at him: a sort of what-can-you-do smirk. Diego doesn’t return it, and the grin drops off Klaus’ face like it’s physically hurt him.

 

“Don’t worry,” Ben chimes in from next to him, shit eating grin and carefully styled hair even though he’s dead. Klaus grits his teeth. “He likes you really. I can tell: he always hurts the people he likes. Pulls their pigtails, y’know?”

 

“What?” Klaus asks exasperatedly, not having had much of an education in the psychology of children. When he was a child in kindergarten he was too busy avoiding the ghosts to have his ponytails pulled.

 

“What?” Five hisses, looking one hundred percent done with all of Klaus’ shit. At least he doesn’t look suspicious - like Vanya, the back of his mind supplies, _be_ _careful_ \- so he counts it as a win.

 

“What?” Klaus repeats at Five, just to be an asshole. He can’t help but laugh, high pitched and a little crazy, at his own joke which of course pisses the Boy off even more. Luther steps forwards suddenly, too suddenly to be friendly, and Klaus flinches involuntarily; all he can see in that moment is a big, strong, violent man hurrying forward with the intent to cause harm. To cause pain.

 

In a split second, Diego has put himself in between Klaus and Diego and, though it’s still a mildly terrifying position to be in, he allows himself to breathe a sigh of relief and intense his shoulders a little. Diego has his knives and he can really use them, as he proved in the other room, and this has given Klaus the advanced warning he’d need to spark his powers, get his shield up around him. His heart slows a little, beats at a more acceptable speed.

 

“Easy,” Diego holds a hand up warningly. Klaus reaches out unthinkingly - the natural, grateful response to reach for the person protecting him and hold on kicking in - and clutches the belt loops on the back of Diego’s costume. He feels very much like a child holding his father’s hand to cross the road— or, at least, he assumes that it would feel like this. He hasn’t exactly had much experience in the parent department. Either way, Diego doesn’t acknowledge Klaus’ actions, but he doesn’t discourage them either.

 

“Take it easy, big guy.” Diego says, but there’s a hint of aggression underlying his words like he’d be ready to fight if necessary. No one has ever been ready to fight for Klaus before.

 

“Oh come on, Diego,” Luther snaps irritably. “We all know you’re only siding with him ‘cause you want—”

 

“Boys!” Allison stands up abruptly, heels clicking against the floor. “Jesus, do you hear yourselves? This isn’t about either of you, this is about _him_.” She points a long, slender finger at Klaus.

 

Klaus, mesmerised by how shiny and pretty her nails look, blurts out, “Where do you get your manicures? I only ask because after this I think I deserve to spoil myself, y’know?”

 

“Klaus,” Vanya pushes past her siblings and takes a seat on the large armchair to his right. He side-eyes her suspiciously, worriedly, because she seemed like the only other one who might be more on his side and if she’s about to attack him as well he’ll be really upset.

 

“I get that this is probably really weird for you. And uncomfortable.” Klaus nods in agreement and raises his eyebrows at the others as though to say, ‘are you listening?’ “Look, our father was pretty messed up, but the tests he ran on us were kind of useful for judging how powerful we were. Maybe they could help you too?”

 

Klaus’ heart sinks. He was wrong: they do want to experiment on him. They want to turn him into another sick science experiment like they were, like everyone has always wanted him to be. He’s made such a huge mistake coming here in the first place, agreeing to stay, daring to trust them… he’s always said that it doesn’t matter how nice a person seems. Everyone wants something.

 

“Klaus?” Someone is saying, and then there’s a hand sliding up his throat to wrap around his neck, squeezing just barely. Just enough to bring his vision into sharp, clear focus once again, just enough to let him breathe evenly. He shudders, and the hand - that he can now see belongs to Diego - settles warm and heavy and comforting over the back of his neck. It feels strangely safer, and he really needs to get laid what with the way the gesture alone makes his eyes flutter, makes him want to sink to the floor and let himself be controlled.

 

“Klaus?” Diego repeats soothingly, voice low and quiet and something solid for Klaus to latch onto.

 

“Tests?” Klaus asks croakily. He needs a drink: his throat feels sore and scratchy and dry, but he doesn’t think Five would exactly offer him one of his margaritas. “I’m not— I don’t want to…”

 

“We’re not asking you to do anything you don’t wanna do,” Diego assures him, and Klaus is unfortunately inclined to believe him. Sometimes having the choice makes it worse, he’s found. “Just... test your powers against ours? See how strong you are, how strong you could be. We’ve never come across anything like this before. It could really help people.”

 

“Help people like… the Umbrella Academy, you mean?” Klaus frowns. “Holy shit, are you guys asking me to join your superhero gang?”

 

“I told you he wouldn’t take it seriously.” Klaus hears Five mutter under his breath to Allison. “Diego, can we stop this now? Just give him ten bucks and—”

 

“Shut up,” says Diego, who hasn’t taken his eyes of Klaus once. In his peripheral vision Klaus can see Five bristling at the remark, but his main focus is Diego, who’s looking at him intently with big brown eyes and beautiful lips curved upwards slightly into an almost-smile. Klaus thinks he’d do anything asked of him if it meant Diego would keep looking at him with that smile, that hopeful look.

 

“What do you say?” Diego asks.

 

“Sure, why not? I don’t have much else on.” Klaus replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so when I started this I put the Dom/sub tag in just because, y’know, but now question: it probably wouldn’t be for another couple of chapters yet but would you guys want to see klaus dom or sub or both because I genuinely can’t decide?
> 
> <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out this INCREDIBLE [artwork](http://iwishiiwrites.tumblr.com/post/183484578248/quick-sketchy-of-a-scene-from-a-wonderful-fic) by iwishii for the last chapter, I love it so much!!! <3
> 
> Also, I finalised a plan for this and added a chapter count as well as some new tags, so you can see a bit of what’s coming up. :)

2005 - Age 16:

 

Klaus fucks his way around Germany for a solid year and a half before he catches a break. He loses his virginity to a fifty something year old man in a shitty motel just off the highway for ten bucks and a ride to the city. He smokes his first joint with a party of college kids, gets baked and gets fucked by one of them whilst the others watch and laugh and get higher. After that it’s an endless cycle: there’s always someone willing to supply him with drugs or alcohol - because it doesn’t matter what it is anymore, speed, ecstasy, coke, he’ll take whatever - if he’s willing to let them put their dicks in him.

 

Sometimes he has women pay him as well, but he’s never really been into women and he leaves a lot of them unsatisfied when he can’t get it up. Part of him wants to tell them to go fuck themselves for trying to fuck a fourteen year old kid in the first place, but it’s a very small part and he’s high too often to let it have a voice.

 

He gets picked up by a dirty cop when he’s sixteen. Klaus is his kept boy for a while - he lives in this guy’s bed, eats when he wants him to eat, bends over when he wants him to bend over - and it’s alright. The ghosts leave him alone when he’s high so he stays high all the time, fucked out of his mind both literally and figuratively. He barely even registers it when the cop tells him that they’re moving to America, but he pays attention when he’s shut in the boot of a car for six hours, the horrible rocking motions of a ferry combining with the coke he snorted before they left making him want to throw up. Claustrophobia kicks in not long afterwards and his breathing is so erratic and choked that he must pass out, because the next thing he remembers is the boot being opened and the sunlight being too bright for Klaus’ throbbing head.

 

Klaus isn’t sure how the guy swings it, but somehow he’s stuffing a passport into Klaus’ hands and pushing him towards airport security - when did they get to an airport? - and then he’s sat on a plane for a few hours, the cop’s hand resting over his cock the entire journey, never pressing hard enough for him to get off. He just leaves it there, like Klaus’ crotch is a fucking armrest. It’s asserting his power, Klaus supposes.

 

He’s excited to go to America, despite all this. It can be his new start, away from the guilt and paranoia of his past. He can get clean, get a job in some cute little American artisan coffee shop that Klaus always sees in the movies, maybe buy his own apartment. Maybe, he thinks, dares to hope, things will get better for him. Maybe his life will improve and he can finally live normally like he’s always wanted to. Maybe the ghosts will leave him alone and he can surpress his telekinesis until it’s barely a memory. Maybe he can be happy here, in this country where great things are supposed to happen.

 

It doesn’t turn out like that, of course. It never does, for Klaus.

 

 

2019 - Age 30:

 

Training, Klaus decides, is not as bad as he thought it would be. The others still don’t like him, but he doesn’t think they’re about to strap him down in a lab somewhere and send electrical signals to his brain. That’s good enough for Klaus to keep practising, so he keeps practising. He doesn’t know much about this ‘superhero club’ they’re thinking of forming - reforming? - because not even Diego seems eager to tell him that yet, but he can take a guess that they’re going to need to be better than The Umbrella Academy were before— going to need to work as a team this time.

 

He doesn’t know how they can function as a team if everyone but Diego hates him, but that can be a problem for another day. For now, Klaus is content to live in comparative luxury: he has his own bedroom here, his own actual bed, a warm shower whenever he wants. He didn’t have many clothes to put in his new wardrobe, but Diego has promised him that, if he wants, they can go out clothes shopping later on.

 

Klaus isn’t sure whether or not he believes him - why waste money on an ex-homeless, hopeless junkie? - but he guesses he’ll believe it when he sees it.

 

With Luther he always trains on the defensive. The man is too powerful for anyone to hope to actually beat him, but Luther has told him that, because he’s small and skinny, he should be good at evasion. Every time Luther throws a punch or lunges for him, Klaus has to dart out of the way or duck under his arm until they’re both panting and sweating, Klaus with a shit-eating (proud) grin and Luther with a murderous glint in his eye. If once or twice Luther has barged past him a little too hard in the hallway, winded Klaus for a good ten seconds, Klaus isn’t going to complain about it.

 

He can’t really train with Allison since her only power is rumouring people and she’s too advanced at close combat for Klaus’ intermediate level skills. Klaus’ idea of a good fight is head-butting someone on the nose whilst he steals their drugs, but he doesn’t think that method will fly in here. Plus, if he broke Allison’s nose he thinks Luther might actually kill him.

 

Training with Five is actually pretty entertaining; he finds that the guy hating him is a benefit rather than a disadvantage. It’s way harder to hit someone you like than someone who finds you intolerable, and it’s fun to see the frustrated look on Five’s face every time Klaus does something to beat him. If Five disappears, Klaus assumes he’s going to show up behind him - probably with a glass to smash over his head, if his murderous expression is anything to go by - and can form a shield around himself in half a second.

 

The first time it happened he was too slow, and Five was able to get him in a chokehold in no time at all. Though he had obviously been proud of his achievement, he had pushed Klaus to keep practising. Klaus thinks, in some ways, he owes his time improvements to Five. They seem to fascinate him as well, his abilities. He likes to examine the way Klaus’ shield glimmers when it catches the light, the way his hands flicker blue whenever he moves something with his mind, the way his feet have to be bare for him to levitate. He’s definitely taken advantage of Klaus for that - Klaus’ little toe has been broken by Five’s hard soled shoes more times than he can count - but weirdly, he finds it more useful than annoying.

 

Training with Vanya is probably the hardest; she’s the strongest, and they often end up in checkmate situations where it feels like Klaus is pushing his mind up against a brick wall, straining the muscle in his brain so hard that blood drips from his nose and ears at the end of each session. She’s always good natured about it though, never complains. Never tries to break his toes either.

 

Klaus always does his best in these sessions, because he knows they’re necessary. He’s read all about the Umbrella Academy - in Vanya’s book for one thing, but in newspapers all around the world as well - knows all about how dysfunctional they are and how badly they get along. He’s seen it first hand now, there’s no denying it. They wouldn’t be reforming their little gang of crime fighters unless there was a real reason to, a real threat. Klaus just wants to be part of something, something real, and if pushing himself past his limit is going to get him there then it’s worth it.

 

This isn’t the only reason he tries hard, though. No, another fairly important reason is the fact that Diego always stands just outside the training ring, just watching him. He doesn’t move, just stands there with his legs planted firmly and his arms crossed over his chest, but he keeps his eyes trained on Klaus no matter how fast the fight is and that thought spreads something addictive and heady throughout his chest. Diego’s gaze is hot and possessive, and Klaus always tries to put on a bit of a show just for him, arching his back and stretching more than strictly necessary before each fight.

 

It may be wishful thinking, but Diego looks like he’s fighting the urge to jump into the ring and back Klaus up against the wall, push him to his knees and slide his dick down Klaus’ throat. Klaus kind of wishes he’d stop fighting.

 

It’s infinitely better, though, when Diego is actually in the ring with him. Fighting with him. On the days when they do close combat, they always end up in a tangled mess of limbs, Klaus squirming on the floor and Diego’s leather clad body laying over him, keeping him there with a hand around his neck or in the middle of his chest. On those days, Klaus has to waddle out of the room afterwards, take a long shower and jerk himself off until he comes so hard he almost slips and brains himself against the tiled floor.

 

Testing their powers is still good— Diego still looks drop dead gorgeous throwing knives and Klaus still gets to enjoy his impressed reactions. It’s still just as much of a thrill as it was when it first happened, strapped to a chair with Diego hovering in front of him cautiously.

 

Klaus is thinking all this as he warms up for his latest training session with Diego: warms up being a loose term, since all he can really do is take deep breaths and hold himself a few inches above the ground until it starts to feel like his brain is melting and his body is overheating.

 

“You good to go, rookie?” Diego calls over to him from where he’s standing in the middle of the ring, jumping up and down lightly on the balls of his feet. Ever agile, ever eager. The nickname is one that, ironically enough, Five started in an attempt to condescend to Klaus the first time they trained together and Klaus was thrashed mercilessly. Diego, standing watch guard dog style in the corner, picked up on it pretty quickly. Klaus doesn’t mind, when Diego says it.

 

“Can’t wait,” Klaus replies, stepping nearer himself. He’s fairly sober at the moment - ignoring the voice in the back of his head that tells him this is a bad idea, tells him get high _now_ \- just so he can properly enjoy the way Diego’s body twists and turns as he fights. Diego throws him a lopsided grin, hands readying themselves at his waist where all his knives are carefully sheathed.

 

“Let’s go.” He says.

 

It’s a bit like a dance, the way Diego fights. Admittedly, a dance Klaus hasn’t learned and is having to pick up the steps to on the move, but a dance nonetheless. It’s one big fluid movement, not jerky and full of climactic waiting periods like it is with Five. Diego moves his body with ease, like he’s spent his whole life doing so. Klaus can only try and keep up.

 

It’s not hard to tell that Diego is going easy on him for now, but Klaus appreciates it; when he throws his knives they’re weak shots, not difficult at all for Klaus to swipe out of the way with his mind or dodge just by speed. They dance around each other for five whole minutes before Klaus even realises something is wrong.

 

He can usually tell it’s starting by the room getting colder, until he can see his breath forming a misty cloud in the air and goosebumps rise on his skin. This room is always cold though, because apparently Luther says they need to prepare themselves for any condition, so Klaus is freezing already and he barely even notices. The next indication is the edges of his vision darkening just a little, just enough for the shadows to creep in and bring the spirits with them.

 

It’s just bad luck, Klaus thinks, that Diego chooses to complete a 360 degree pivot and hurl a knife in Klaus’ direction at exactly the same moment that Klaus sees the first ghost he’s seen in months other than Ben looming menacingly behind Diego’s back.

 

Klaus recognises him immediately: the burnt features. The peeling skin. The angry, bloodshot eyes. He hasn’t seen Stefan in a long time, but it makes sense that the man would show up here and now, just as Klaus is starting to feel human again. It figures that if Klaus even tries to go sober for as much as two days he’s plagued by nightmares from his childhood all over again, inescapable for him even in death.

 

It’s been long enough for Klaus that the sight of Stefan’s charred body makes him falter - only for a second, but it’s enough - and stumbles back a few paces, mouth hanging open in horror. All his defences drop, and Diego’s knife glides through the flesh of his upper arm easily.

 

The force behind the throw sends Klaus tipping backwards until he lands on his ass and knocks his head against the floor hard enough to blackout his vision for a few seconds. When his eyes flutter open again he whimpers, expecting to see Stefan’s blackened corpse standing over him. Instead, he sees Diego.

 

Diego, who kneels down beside him with wide, panicked eyes and a horror struck expression. Diego, whose arms flail widely like he wants to help but he has no idea how.

 

“Fuck, _fuck_!” He’s whispering on a loop, over and over like it’s all he knows how to say. “I’m so sorry, _shit_. Are you okay? Klaus— are you okay?”

 

The cut itself isn’t too bad - it won’t need stitches or anything so dramatic - and Klaus has definitely had worse, but for some reason Klaus can’t find the words to say all this out loud. No one has ever fussed over him so thoroughly as Diego is doing now. No one has ever cared enough about him to be so worried.

 

“Here, fuck. C’mon, Klaus, you got this.” Logically Klaus knows Diego is saying this from his position right next to him, but it sounds like he’s underwater or saying it through a filter. Diego gets an arm under Klaus’ back and slowly, carefully, guides him into an upright position. Klaus can feel Diego’s muscles, barely even straining, through two layers of fabric and when Diego’s hand slides backwards to cradle the back of Klaus’ head he stops breathing for a moment.

 

Diego keeps talking to him in short, encouraging sentences, and Klaus can feel his brain start to get murky and lightweight. He can barely even feel the stinging pain in his arm anymore; all he can hear is Diego’s voice like everything else is background noise and all he can feel is Diego’s warm, wide hands all over his body. His chest feels light and his mind feels airy, floating around with only Diego’s voice to tether him to reality.

 

“Klaus, can you hear me?” Diego asks, hand making its way to Klaus’ cheek. Diego tilts Klaus’ head back and Klaus feels so warm, so safe here, that he lets his head loll back to rest against Diego’s arm behind him, supporting him. His pupils are probably massively dilated and his endless, awed staring might creep Diego out a bit, but he finds it impossible to stop. Impossible to blink or look away.

 

“Yes,” he answers, voice soft and barely there. Diego breathes a sigh of relief, even though he seems to interpret Klaus’ lightheadedness as a bad thing. Christ, Klaus needs to go out and get laid.

 

“Good, okay.” Diego swallows, brushing the hair out of Klaus’ face and trying to subtly pull him upwards. “Can you stand?”

 

Klaus frowns, looks down at his body laid out on the floor. Why does he need to stand? He’s perfectly comfortable here. Diego should join him instead of the other way around. He doesn’t reply, instead just makes a displeased noise in the back of his throat.

 

“Klaus, c’mon.” Diego coaxes. “Stand up for me, yeah?”

 

Oh, well, okay. That changes things: if Diego wants Klaus to stand up for him then how could Klaus want to do anything other than exactly that? He thinks he’d do anything Diego asked him to in this frame of mind. That thought would usually scare him, but this is Diego, and Klaus trusts Diego not to take advantage of him in this state.

 

Only, when he tries to push himself up his arms fail him; he feels weak and floaty all over, like he can’t move, can only be manhandled. Diego sees his failed efforts and helps him, hooking an arm under Klaus’ arms and pulling Klaus further into his side.

 

Diego leads them both upstairs with Klaus hanging off his arm, trying to nuzzle his face into Diego’s neck the whole journey. By the time they reach their destination - Diego’s bedroom, Klaus notices, not his own - Klaus honestly isn’t sure if he’s levitating or not. He feels bottomless and full of empty space— no room for negative thoughts or energy, only contentedness.

 

Diego lays him down in his bed and leans over, examining Klaus’ arm. When he pulls back, he has a confused look on his face and he checks Klaus over for other injuries, seeming even more baffled when he doesn’t find any.

 

“Klaus,” He starts, slowly like he might be talking to a child. “Does your arm hurt?”

 

“No…” Klaus sighs happily, blinking blearily up at Diego.

 

“Then why…” Diego frowns, swallows, frowns again. “Does your head still hurt?”

 

“No, sir.” It slips out of Klaus’ mouth before he can stop it. He doesn’t even think he’d have the wherewithal to stop it if he could, because even after he’s said it and it’s out in the open he doesn’t try to take it back or apologise. He just continues to watch Diego relaxedly, all his musclesfeeling liquid.

 

Diego blinks, his face going blank for half a second before comprehension dawns and he takes in Klaus’ figure again. He sees the boneless position, his bleary stare, his perfectly content smile. Klaus isn’t aware enough to ponder the fact that Diego understanding what’s going on means he must have been in this situation before.

 

“Oh,” Diego says shortly. “Oh. Okay.”

 

Klaus hums happily under his breath, reaching up an arm and attempting to touch Diego, maybe run a hand down his chest to his cock. Diego takes his hand carefully like he hasn’t fully made up his mind yet, and sits on the edge of the bed gingerly. He strokes Klaus’ hair back and watches him hungrily.

 

“You sleepy, baby?” He asks eventually, surprisingly. It’s only then that Klaus acknowledges how exhausted he actually feels - seeing another ghost paired with his semi-sobriety, the tension of the fight paired with the sudden unexpected journey to subspace, has drained him of any and all energy he might have had. Klaus groans, features scrunching up, and nods, pushing his forehead against Diego’s thigh where is rests next to him on the bed.

 

“Yeah?” Diego hums, fond smile in his voice.

 

“Yes, sir.” Klaus repeats breathily.

 

“Why don’t you get some sleep, sweetheart.” Diego says nicely, but it’s less of a suggestion and more of a command. This is good: Klaus needs to be controlled right now, needs to be told what to do. He’s lost all ability to look after himself, so he needs someone else to do it for him.

 

“But…” Klaus starts.

 

“No buts.” Diego tells him firmly, petting Klaus’ hair until it’s the only sensation Klaus can focus on. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”

 

So many people have made promises to Klaus only to break them when they’ve gotten what they wanted, but this time, Klaus chooses to believe Diego. He wants to take a chance on him.

 

He closes his eyes, and lets himself sleep in Diego’s house, in Diego’s room and Diego’s bed. He feels safer than he’s ever felt before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the general consensus was Klaus should be the sub so here you go XD definitely hoping to add some bratty/bossy ‘topping from the bottom’ klaus in later chapters though! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle dom Diego and subby baby Klaus <3

2006 - Aged 17:

 

The cop is arrested - Klaus doesn’t pay enough attention to the charge - and Klaus is living on the streets before he even knows what’s happening. He doesn’t have the chance to pack of bag of clothes of valuables or even food. Once again he’s climbing out of a window to escape, and once again he’s completely empty handed.

 

He begs a lot, busks occasionally, but mostly he sells himself. There’s a lot of standing around waiting on street corners in the middle of the night, and most of the time he’s getting twenty bucks for a quick blow in a back alley somewhere, but sometimes he’ll get a rich client who’ll take him out to dinner or let him snort cocaine before he fucks him.

 

So yeah, it’s not all bad and it beats serving time as an illegal immigrant in an American prison. Or even worse, being sent back to Germany straight into the state care he worked so hard to escape. There’s no way he’s letting that happen, so he keeps his head down and his ass up and it works fine.

 

Sometimes he crashes in homeless shelters dotted all around New York. One of his regular clients - a personal favourite, because he always feeds and fucks Klaus well - offers to check him into a rehab when he has the unfortunately timed opportunity to see Klaus on a particularly bad comedown. Klaus politely declines, and avoids the man for months until he stops coming around.

 

Occasionally he’ll locate himself under little shop archways opposite the Umbrella Academy mansion— there’s always a crowd, always someone feeling sorry for the poor homeless kid outside the big flashy house. Every so often he’ll see them, five of them, filtering out behind their father for a mission. They’re always so refined and well groomed and well put together, and Klaus hates them for that. The longer he spends outside the building, watching the, leave and come back, the angrier he gets.

 

He’s there when five go out, and only four return. Four’s body must be transported home separately because Klaus watches numbers One through to Five trudge home again. One is covered in blood.

 

Maybe it’s the pills he took earlier that night, unidentified and unimportant, that makes Klaus feel so deeply wounded. He weeps that night under the archway of a Chinese takeaway huddled up in a ratty second hand sleeping bag, weeps for Ben and for all of them. At that time he thinks that maybe they’re not so different after all, maybe they’re just living this life without having chosen it.

 

The next morning, though, Klaus watches as Reginald Hargreeves makes a public announcement about Four’s death, and the rest of the children stand in formation behind him wearing matching masks and smiles. Klaus, bitterly sober, hates them more than ever before. He hates them for making him empathise with them, for making him think that they could ever be the same.

 

Klaus vows that day that someday he’s going to have everything that they have, everything that should have been his birthright.

 

That vow haunts him for the next thirteen years.

 

 

2019 - Aged 30:

 

 

When Klaus wakes up, his head still feels a little fuzzy and his body feels like it’s floating on air but he’s less exhausted. Instead he feels electric, like every point of contact between the soft cotton sheets and his body is setting his nerve endings alight. He blinks his eyes open slowly, taking in the dark, dusky sky outside. How much time has passed? Did he miss an entire day of training, just for one angry ghost from his past? He hasn’t slipped like that in a long time, but with Diego’s hands all over him, making him feel so safe and welcome, he couldn’t help himself. He had felt it like a deep visceral need in him to give in.

 

When he looks around, he sees Diego. He’s balancing on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up to his chest and his head resting on the wall behind him. His hand is lying limply in Klaus’ - he stayed.

 

Seeing him like this is so rare and yet so beautiful - he looks vulnerable and exposed: everything Klaus feels and everything Diego never is around his family. Klaus feels incredibly lucky, getting to see this side of him that he must keep hidden from everybody else.

 

He shakes Diego’s hand gently, just enough to have him blinking awake sleepily and turning big, brown eyes onto where Klaus is lying curled up next to him. The corners of his mouth turn up and it’s the softest smile anyone has ever given Klaus - void of the sharp, dangerous edge of the men he’s slept with before or the fake, condescending pity-smile of his old social workers. Diego is looking at Klaus like he’s something precious, and it kind of makes him want to cry.

 

Instead, he sits up and edges closer to Diego, clinging onto the man’s knee for leverage.

 

“Morning.” He hides a smile in his knees. Diego shakes his head fondly, stretches.

 

“Evening.” He corrects. “How’re you feeling? Do you remember what happened?” He lifts his hand as though to stroke Klaus’ face and for a second Klaus swears he can actually feel Diego ‘s fingertips ghosting over his cheekbone, down to his lips. Then the sensation is gone; maybe Klaus is just hypersensitive still from his unexpected trip to subspace, but yeah. He remembers. Judging from the way Diego is looking at him, concerned and affectionate, he doesn’t hate him for it, but Klaus still feels a pang or anxiety in his chest.

 

“I’m sorry.” Klaus tells him, trying his best to sound sincere. He’s never sincere around any of them though, around anybody really, and so it probably just sounds like he’s about to burst into tears. “I didn’t mean to— it just…”

 

“Hey, hey.” Diego murmurs. “Don’t be sorry. You couldn’t help it, couldn’t help yourself, could you baby? Been too long, huh?” Diego’s voice, low and sickly sweet, has Klaus’ brain scrambling helplessly and suddenly he feels very, very exposed, vulnerable, in the best possible way. Just like Diego, both of them on display for the other.

 

“Yeah.” He breathes out, voice breaking on one fucking syllable. Diego coos sympathetically, this time actually making contact and tucking a loose curl behind Klaus’ ear. His breathing stutters pathetically and it’s like all the time he was asleep changed nothing: he still feels just as deep under as he had earlier. Diego’s hand rubbing up and down his thigh doesn’t help either.

 

“Thought so.” Diego nods wisely. He eases his hands up and down Klaus’ legs, adding the slightest pressure until he lays them flat on the bed and spreads them a little.

 

“Just needed it so bad, huh? S’okay, baby. I get it.” Fuck, Klaus can feel himself disassociating from reality again. Diego’s words are low and intentional and fucking hot with promise. Klaus whimpers, and that seems to be what Diego is waiting for.

 

“Is this what you need, sweetheart?” With one finger, Diego draws figure of eight patterns onto the exposed skin of Klaus’ stomach, getting lower and lower each time until Klaus is squirming, hard and biting his lip to stop from crying out.

 

“Need someone to take care of you, is that right?” Diego presses, pupils dilated and breath coming in quicker. Klaus feels overloaded with sensation so much so that he can’t focus on any questions thrown his way, doesn’t understand why Diego keeps pushing this, doesn’t know what he wants him to say—

 

The heel of Diego’s palm settles over Klaus’ cock and _grinds_ , and Klaus understands suddenly with perfect clarity.

 

“ _Nnngh_.” Klaus groans, hips jerking up involuntarily to meet the pressure. “ _Yes_ _sir_.”

 

Diego surges forward and covers Klaus’ mouth with him own: Diego’s lips are a soft, insistent pressure against his and when his tongue slides against Klaus’, over the roof of his mouth and over his bottom lip again and again in no particular rhythm until Klaus is rutting up desperately against Diego’s hand with tears streaming down his face, Klaus sees stars.

 

“There we go, baby.” Diego beams at Klaus proudly, like he’s done something exceptional. “You’re letting yourself slip. Doesn’t it feel good, huh? Being good for me?”

 

Ever so gently, Diego inches Klaus’ waistband down just far enough to be able to get his cock out, hard and aching. Diego holds it in his hand for a few moments, just inspecting it— his palm is rough and warm and calloused. Klaus’ stomach rolls with an unstoppable wave of lust so intense that he thinks he might come right there.

 

Then Diego is holding Klaus’ chin between his finger and thumb, tilting his head upwards and meeting his gaze with round, reprimanding eyes.

 

“Baby boy,” he hums. “I asked you a question. Aren’t you gonna be polite and answer it?” The thought of being impolite, of being naughty, of _disappointing_ Diego, is such a devastating idea to Klaus at this moment that his eyes well up with sudden inexplicable tears and his bottom lip fucking trembles.

 

“No, sir. Sorry sir.” Klaus apologises, voice wet and thick with tears. Diego shocks a surprised squeak from him when he tightens his hand around Klaus’ erection, spits on the tip and slides his saliva down the shaft. Klaus shudders, precome gathering at the slit of his cock. His body feels on fire and it’s so embarrassing, because Diego has hardly touched him yet and he already feels ready to come.

 

“I said, you like being good for me, don’t you?” Diego repeats. Klaus isn’t sure he’ll physically be able to answer at this point, but he nods empathically and garbles out a jumble of words that clearly mean ‘yes’, and Diego must take pity on him because he barks out a laugh before stroking from the base of Klaus’ cock to the tip. Klaus’ body goes taut and tense and fuck, this is pathetic, he’s going to come with just Diego’s hand on his cock spilling dirty words into his ear. It’s been a while, granted, but even that’s no excuse for coming in under a minute. Diego is going to think he’s easy, a slut, _not_ _worth_ _his_ _while_ —

 

Diego takes his hand away, leaving Klaus panting and blinking in a daze and arching his back up off the mattress. It feels like there’s no blood left in his brain; Diego had taken him right to the very brink and then yanked him back before he could tip over, and he’s still a little hazy from it.

 

“What— what?” He gasps, hard and aching still. His fingertips are starting to go numb and he knows that there’s a bright pink blush creeping it’s way up his chest, his neck and to his cheeks. He hopes Diego can see it, can see how desperate he’s making Klaus.

“You wanna show me how sweet you are, right Klaus? How good you can be for me?” At Klaus’ teary, confused nod Diego continues. “Then hold on for me.”

 

He starts stroking Klaus again, painfully slowly with his index finger and his thumb making a tight circle around him. Klaus obediently holds his hips still, even though it feels like his breath is being punched out of him every time Diego twists his fingers under the head or rubs the flat of his palm over the tip until Klaus’ thighs are twitching and trembling uncontrollably, and Diego’s fingers are covered in precome.

 

“You’re doing so well, Klaus, you’re so brave. Almost there, I promise.” Diego tells him, around the third time he pulls Klaus back from the edge. He must realise that by now Klaus’ brain has turned to mush; he isn’t conscious of anything else happening around him. It feels like Diego’s hand on his dick is the only thing that exists in the universe. He isn’t even conscious of breathing, and maybe he isn’t doing it because his lungs feel like they’re on fire and every time he takes a shuddering breath in Diego’s hand gets a little tighter.

 

“Please,” Klaus whimpers, not wanting to be naughty but worried that he might pass out if Diego doesn’t let him come right now. “Need it. Please, sir.”

 

Diego’s eyes darken and he grips harder, strokes faster, until Klaus is breathless and then Diego’s other hand is slipping up Klaus’ torso and his chest until it reaches his neck, laying his palm flat over Klaus’ throat and pressing down and _fuck_ —

 

Klaus can’t breathe when he comes, can’t speak or moan or cry out. Silent tears slip down his face and Diego slips his tongue between Klaus’ quiet, parted lips, and working up and down Klaus’ dick until he’s twitchy and oversensitive.

 

His legs feel like jelly and his neck feels sore like maybe there’s a red handprint there that he’ll have to cover up before he goes training with the others again, but Klaus is looking up at Diego like he hung the fucking moon. He’s ready to do anything the man tells him to.

 

Diego unbuckles his belt first and slides that over his hips, kicks it to the floor, before unbuttoning his leather trousers. He pushes his boxers down his thighs and over his feet with one hand, because the other is still holding Klaus’ come.

 

He stands up suddenly - it’s not exactly sudden, but Klaus feels like he just ran a marathon and his head is feeling from how hard he came, so it feels pretty sudden to him - and guides Klaus into a sitting position again. He helps him slide off the bed until he’s kneeling on the floor in front of Diego, at eye level with the man’s dick. It’s hard and flushed red in front of his face, and Klaus can’t wait to get his lips around it.

 

Klaus leans forward to try and take it in his mouth, but he’s stopped by Diego’s clean hand pressing against his forehead, holding him back. With the other hand Diego strokes himself, and when Klaus realises Diego is using his come to ease the friction his mouth fills with saliva. Okay, he understands now.

 

“Okay, baby boy.” Diego grunts, taking his hand away. “You gonna show me what you can do?”

 

Klaus doesn’t waste time teasing Diego, doesn’t think he’d be allowed to get away with it, and instead takes all of him in his mouth at once. Diego’s cock is covered in Klaus’ come and it almost masks the taste of Diego himself, warm and skin and salt on his tongue. Klaus closes his eyes and tilts his head, sliding forward so that Diego’s dick slips down his throat easy as that.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Diego pants, hunching forward for a second before getting control of himself again. “That’s good, sweetheart. Just like that.” Klaus lights up at the praise; he swallows, his throat constricting around the tip, before sliding up so that the head of Diego’s cock rests just on his bottom lip. Saliva and come drip from Klaus’ lips down his chin, so that it’s impossible to tell which is Klaus’ and which is Diego’s.

 

Klaus has always considered himself excellent at blowing people. It’s a skill he cultivated as a teenager, when it was more of a necessity than a leisure activity, but right now he’s so relieved that he has a backlog of tricks to rely on. This is all about showing Diego what he can do, like he said, and Klaus can do a lot of things.

 

Diego settles a hand over Klaus’ head, weaves his fingers through his soft hair, and it takes Klaus a moment to realise that it’s the hand Diego held his come in. It’s filthy and wet and degrading, but somehow - with Diego whispering things like, “You’re doing so well, Klaus,” and, “Born to suck cock, weren’t you sweetheart?” - it feels anything but.

 

He’s definitely going to need a shower after this, though.

 

“I’m gonna come,” Diego tells him eventually. Klaus moans around his dick in agreement and zigzags his tongue up the vein. Diego’s hand is guiding him now, pushing him down until his lips are wrapped around the base, the thickest part of Diego’s dick, and holding him there until his eyes water.

 

“Want it in your mouth, baby?” Diego asks, a smirk audible in his voice. “Or all over your pretty face?”

 

It takes Klaus a second to realise Diego is genuinely asking him. It takes him another second to realise Diego isn’t going to let Klaus off his cock to actually answer.

 

“Mouth,” Klaus tries to enunciate around the dick down his throat, but it comes out a garbed, unintelligible mess. Diego frowns mockingly, rolling his hips upwards lazily so that his cock chokes Klaus a little bit more each time, like he’s got all the time in the world.

 

“What was that, baby?” Klaus tries to repeat it, tears dripping down his chin now as well. “If you aren’t going to answer me like a good boy maybe you shouldn’t get it at all.” Diego moves to pull out and Klaus moans in distress, his hands flying up from where they were resting at his own sides to grip Diego’s hips and pull him closer.

 

Even though Diego didn’t necessarily say this was allowed, it still proves to be the right thing to do. Diego coos sympathetically and pets his cheek, smearing Klaus’ own come over his face.

 

“Easy, sweetheart. Don’t worry, you’ve been so good for me. You did such a good job, I think you deserve it.” Klaus squeezes his eyes shut and tries to nod self pityingly. Diego eases backwards so that only the head is resting on Klaus’ tongue, hanging out of his open mouth. It’s almost a surprise when he comes, hot and sticky, over Klaus’ face.

 

Klaus is absolutely wrecked, filthy and sticky and in desperate need of a long, hot bath. But he also feels higher than any drug has ever got him, like all his problems have just flown away leaving him relaxed and fluid and dopily happy.

 

He’s not even aware that he’s tilting precariously over until Diego is on his knees in front of him, hands rubbing up and down his arms soothingly. He guides Klaus upwards until he’s standing on shaky, baby-deer legs and then he’s being scooped up, laid flat along Diego’s bed like he’s a princess and Diego is his knight in shining armour.

 

Klaus flails his arms for a second, slapping his hand around until it settles over Diego’s, but Diego just brings it to his lips and kisses Klaus’ palm tenderly before crawling into bed after him and curling around his body.

 

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

***

 

Klaus wakes groggily to good news and bad news: the good news is that he feels marginally more like an actual human being, the last remnants of his slip having totally disappeared. Yes, he feels gross all over, but it’s nothing a nice, long shower won’t fix.

 

The bad news is that Diego is no longer in bed with him, and he can hear angry voices from the hallway.

 

“Are you crazy?” That sounds like Luther, and Klaus has never heard him so enraged. “Seriously, Diego, what were you thinking? You _know_ what we’ve talked about. You really think this is gonna help anything?”

 

“It’s really none of your business.” That’s definitely Diego, and whilst he’s being quieter than Luther, his voice is low and no less dangerous. “I’m being careful, I’m not going to screw this up. Okay? So don’t worry about that. But what I do in my spare time is nothing to do with you.”

 

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Luther bites back, and Klaus is just about to creak the door open and ask them what’s going on when Ben appears next to him so suddenly that he almost screams.

 

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” He advises warningly.

 

“Dude!” Klaus complains. “Were you there the whole time? Perv!”

 

Ben rolls his eyes but grins lopsidedly anyway. Klaus never realised he would get his own little groupie club for sleeping with Diego, but the more you know. He can’t help but smile back at Ben, because he just had fantastic sex with a guy he actually likes, actually trusts, who he thinks might even like him back. He’s happy for the first time he can remember in so long.

 

“Am I gonna fuck this up, Ben?” He asks, sounding excited even though he really is terrified of messing everything up. “Something always goes wrong when I’m involved.”

 

“Look, Klaus,” Ben rolls his eyes, floating around the room airily like it’s a novelty to even be here. “I’m not gonna tell you what you should do, but you’ve been here for a few weeks now. Your life is good, right? I mean, it’s better than what it was? Just… stay here, man. You can’t fuck that up.”

 

“The others hate me.” Klaus points out, not wanting to be argumentative but feeling obliged to acknowledge the flaws in Ben’s otherwise appealing idea.

 

“They won’t forever.” Ben promises him. “Besides, Diego isn’t like them. I don’t think you could ever make him hate you. He—” Whatever Ben had been going to say is cut off when the door opens and Diego slips inside, seeming caught off guard by the fact that Klaus is awake. Ben disappears in a poof of nothingness.

 

“Hey,” He smiles, kissing Klaus sweet and chaste on the lips. “What’s going on?”

 

“What do you mean?” Klaus asks, hoping his grin isn’t as big and dumb as it feels.

 

“Seemed like you were talking to somebody?” Diego asks, raising an eyebrow. _Seems_ _like_ _so_ _were_ _you_ , Klaus wants to reply, wants to ask about what Luther meant, but he swallows back the words. He’s trying to be better, and squashing his bitchy tendencies are a good step forward in that direction.

 

“No, not really.” Klaus waves the question away, only feeling mildly guilty. He’ll tell Diego about Ben - about his other ability - when the time is right. He’s afraid of what training the others might want him to do if he enlightens them— memories of grotesque faces and horrible screaming cries fill his head. He wants to put that off for as long as possible, and if he can make the others like him before that then maybe they won’t want to make him suffer at all.

 

In the end it doesn’t matter. Diego is the first person to be interested in him without knowing about all of his powers, and, like Ben said, that means something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To avoid confusion (in case it wasn’t clear)  
> One - Luther  
> Two - Diego  
> Three - Allison  
> Four - Ben  
> Five  
> Six - Vanya
> 
> Real talk though... fluff or angst??


	6. Chapter 6

2010 - Aged 21:

 

Klaus breaks up with his boyfriend of three weeks and is, once again, out on the streets. It would be more accurate he supposes to say that his boyfriend breaks up with him, because turns out an appropriate solution to, ‘your drug habits are ruining this relationship’ is not to get down on your knees and offer to suck your boyfriend off.

 

Klaus doesn’t have the emotional capability or the funds to check himself into another rehab, so he finds the nearest homeless shelter and finds himself a grotty, piss stained mattress in the corner near the men’s bathroom. It’s honestly one of the worst places Klaus has been since arriving in America, and the other inhabitants are just as unfriendly as the people who reluctantly work there. He stays for three nights before anything goes wrong.

 

He’s collected a few things, over the years. Ever since he left the children’s home all those years ago in the middle of the night with nothing to call his own, he’s been making sure to try and gathersome of his own possessions. He lost a few of them the night he escaped the police, of course, but he’s been collecting new ones. He has just enough trinkets - tacky plastic souvenirs or ‘I Heart NY’ paraphernalia - to fill up a small rucksack, along with a few baggies of pills, a couple roll ups stored in a metal tin and a few folded bills.

 

These are his things, the only things in life he can safely say are his and his alone

 

So it’s perfectly natural, Klaus thinks, that when he sees some other homeless junkie jerk rifling through his bag he gets a little mad.

 

“Hey!” Klaus shouts, just back from the shower. He’s dressed in a flowing summer dress despite it being winter. “Get out of my stuff, asshole!”

 

The guy is at least a whole head taller than him, broader across the shoulders and despite clearly being undernourished he still has more muscle on one arm than Klaus does on his whole body. In other words, it would obviously be a really fucking bad idea for Klaus to pick a fight with him over this.

 

Klaus does it anyway.

 

“Fuck off, princess.” The man sneers, inspecting the pills as though trying to figure what they are. He doesn’t spare Klaus another glance, so he reaches out and shoves him from behind. The man stumbles, throws out his hand to catch himself before he faceplants. When he turns around, he looks livid.

 

“What the _fuck_?” He growls, kicking Klaus’ bag so hard it skids across the floor and slams into the wall. The noise of various plastic items breaking is perfectly audible. Klaus swallows and takes a few steps back. He can feel something building in him, something that hasn’t happened in a while, something that he knows he can’t control. He starts to hyperventilate, but the man doesn’t care. He keeps pressing forward, advancing threateningly.

 

“Please,” Klaus pants, staring at his trembling hands. “Don’t. Just leave me alone.”

 

“You think you’re funny, huh?” The man snarls, reaching out for him. Klaus panics, inhales, and thrusts his hand into the guy’s face. It’s shaking, glowing blue, and in a flash there’s a burst of power from the centre of his palm. Power surges through his whole body, and the man goes flying backwards, smashing into a wall and knocking himself unconscious.

 

Somebody screams. He’s starting to draw a crowd. He can’t afford anyone looking into him, finding out that he legally shouldn’t be here, so he panics.

 

Looking over each shoulder, Klaus grabs the strap of his rucksack and runs. He doesn’t go back to that particular shelter again, no matter how awful the weather is or how hungry he is or how filthy he is.

 

He tells himself he can’t risk it, but he knows it’s really because he’s afraid of himself.

 

 2019 - Aged 30:

 

 So nothing much really changes after that, despite everything having changed. Diego still shows up to every training session, still watches him with careful precision like he’s tracking every movement they make as though making sure he doesn’t get hurt. The others have obviously noticed - they must know about them, if they hickeys dotted around Klaus’ neck are anything to go by - but they don’t mention it. They just press their lips into a thin line and frown and hit harder, dodge faster.

 

For as much as this is a bad thing, it’s also a good thing as well. Not only have his powers been growing and becoming easier to control through his training but his physical strength is improving as well. He lands a hit on Luther for the first time ever in one session, and if Allison treads her heel sharply into Klaus’ foot at the dinner table later on, well. Fuck them, right?

 

He does seem to be making progress with Five though. If giving him his leftover coffee when they cross paths at three in the morning in the kitchen, Klaus sneaking back in and Five never having gone to sleep. Five’s head had snapped up at breakneck speed and he had glared at the coffee cup in Klaus’ hand until he had relented, handed it to him and walked away without a word.

 

The next morning, though, Five had half grinned at him over the breakfast table, so maybe things were improving.

 

And everything with Diego is just everything Klaus ever wanted in a man, really. He takes care of Klaus, which is the most important thing. He actually cares when Klaus gets hurt which is new, and after a particularly difficult training session he’ll run Klaus a bath, light some candles. Either that or he’ll manhandle Klaus out of his clothes, into the shower and fuck him up against the wall until they’ve blown off more than just steam.

 

Klaus definitely has a preference.

 

He still has to go out sometimes, though, in the middle of the night. He’ll crawl out of the window if he’s particularly desperate, sneak downtown to his usual haunts and hang around for a couple of hours until one of his old dealers shows up. He’s off the harder stuff - with a rigorous training schedule it’s would be way too hard not to be - but he still doesn’t think Diego or any of the others would be cool with him lighting up in the mansion.

 

If they wouldn’t be okay with a little weed, they definitely wouldn’t be okay with the ecstasy he just took.

 

It’s late, probably around midnight, but everyone in the academy goes to bed ridiculously early so Klaus hadn’t had any problem sneaking out. He sleeps with Diego in his bedroom now which admittedly has made it a little more difficult to keep doing this, but he’s nothing if not serious about his drug habits so he’s willing to put in the extra effort.

 

And it works out wonderfully well, like now for instance, because Klaus can chase one high out there with the knowledge that when he gets back, Diego will satiate another craving for him.

 

“Anyone ever done this for you, sweetheart?” Diego is mumbling from his position lower down the bed, watching Klaus from between his legs, voice low and gravelly and turned on. It makes Klaus’ hips jerk upwards, but Diego’s forearm across his waist keeps him locked in position: legs spread, knees up against his chest, fucking begging for it.

 

“No,” he gasps. “No, sir. Please— fuck, _please_.”

 

Diego laughs once, quiet, like Klaus is the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and then he stops holding back. Klaus fucking _wails_ at the first stroke of Diego’s tongue across his hole, flat and wet. It’s filthy, really, but it feels so fucking good and the ecstasy from earlier is making his skin tingle and his cock leak precome all over his own stomach. Diego seems to particularly appreciate how vocal Klaus gets, how he cries and shakes and lets out little panting, ‘ah, ah,’ sounds whenever Diego does something he really likes.

 

“You like that, baby?” Diego asks smugly, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and Jesus _fuck_ that should not be as hot as it is. As he speaks he traces a circle around Klaus’ hole, relaxed from Diego’s tongue, before sliding it in all the way up to the second knuckle without hesitation. “Like my tongue inside you?”

 

Klaus lets out a moan that can only be described as whorish and tried desperately to push his hips backwards, to screw himself on Diego’s fingers. Diego’s fingertip grazes a spot inside Klaus that makes him bite his lip bloody, makes him choke on his own whine, and when Diego realises that he’s found it he doesn’t relent on it. It’s pathetic, really, that Klaus is going to come from just one finger, but Diego doesn’t seem to think so.

 

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He tells Klaus, rubbing his thigh soothingly as he finger-fucks him with the other hand. “You’re so good, doing so well. Taking it so well, sweetheart. So desperate for it, aren’t you?”

 

Klaus, who is so turned on and whose cock is so hard that he thinks if he tries to talk he’ll just end up moaning, does not reply. Diego takes this as an invitation to keep running his mouth, filthier things falling from his lips every second. He can feel the warm sensation building in him, feels like he can feel each callous on the pad of Diego’s finger as it drags inside him.

 

“You gonna come, baby boy?” Diego teases, barely tracing Klaus’ rim with his thumb as he keeps his index finger moving in and out at a maddeningly gentle, slow pace. That’s Diego’s strategy, Klaus thinks, to bombard him with teasing pleasure until he’s crazy for it, vibrating with the overwhelming need to come.

 

“Yeah,” Klaus pants desperately, scrunching his eyes up and nodding. “Yes, sir.”

 

“Gonna come from just one finger? You that fucking hungry for it?” Diego accompanies this with aharsh thrust of his finger against Klaus’ prostate, making his whole body jerk. A sound escapes Klaus’ lips that doesn’t sound exactly human, but it makes Diego grin, makes him wrap a slow hand tightly around Klaus’ erection, makes him lean down and place a chaste kiss on the tip on Klaus’ cock.

 

Klaus gasps, whimpers and comes in that order. It feels like it lasts forever, Diego finger fucking him through it. A thick rope of come lands across Diego’s cheek and lips, and the next thing Klaus knows is that those lips are on his, his own come being fed back to him and smeared all over his face.

 

Diego grips Klaus’ shoulder and rolls him over, manhandling him roughly so that, even though he’s only just had a mind blowingly intense orgasm, that’s still mind blowingly hot.

 

Then Diego’s hands are on his legs, forcing them tight together, and there’s the sound of a zipper being undone before Diego’s cock is sliding between his thighs. It’s hot and hard and every time the head catches on Klaus’ balls he shivers with overstimulation.

 

“So fucking beautiful like this,” Diego is muttering seemingly to himself, spreading his hand wide on the back of Klaus’ neck and holding him with him face pressed against the pillow. Drool is dribbling down his chin and he’s pretty sure his eyes are rolled back in his head, but Diego keeps going, keeps fucking into the tight, warm space between his thighs.

 

“Gonna fuck you just like this someday, Klaus.” Diego promises between pants. “Gonna push your face into the pillows, drag you ass up, take you like that. You want that? You wanna be fucked like that? Like a slut?”

 

Klaus cries as he moans, tries to push his hips back to meet Diego, and is rewarded by a sharp slap on his thigh. Goosebumps pop up on his skin and he shudders, only manages a breathy, “Yes, sir.” before Diego grunts and spills between his legs. Come drips down his thighs, over his balls; he feels sticky and gross and beautifully sated.

 

Diego rolls off him with a sigh of exertion, hand brushing idly over the spot on Klaus’ leg that he had spanked as though checking it for real injuries. It makes Klaus smile despite the fact that he feels shaky and loose all over.

 

“You okay?” Diego asks, turning his head to face Klaus, whose face is still smushed into the pillow.

 

“Yes, sir.” Klaus responds, giggling.

 

***

 

After this, they talk. Maybe Klaus is just high off the E and the orgasm that he just shared with the most incredible man he’s ever known, but he can almost literally feel his inhibitions fall away. It’s like his walls have come down and suddenly he can trust Diego with his whole life, his entire sorry story.

 

But of course, it comes in the form of Diego asking, because Klaus never knows how much is too much and he’d rather Diego asked him to speak than to stop speaking. They’re laying in Diego’s bed: Klaus is curled up on his side, knees to his chest under the mattress with his head resting on Diego’s arm, whilst Diego is spooned around his body protectively even in their sleepy state. Klaus is warm and soft and malleable so, when Diego murmurs to him, “Where did you come from, huh?” with a sort of awed tone of voice, he doesn’t hesitate to answer.

 

“Germany,” he snorts back, amused. “New York. A gaggle of street urchins. Everywhere, really.”

 

Diego props himself up on his elbow, strokes Klaus’ hair out of his face and tickles his nose until he squirms, grinning, onto his back. Staring up at Diego is one of Klaus’ favourite ways to pass the time— he could spend forever memorising every detail of the man’s face and it still wouldn’t be long enough to do him justice.

 

“Germany?” He prompts, because the name Klaus is pretty telling but this is the first time he’s ever actually mentioned it.

 

“Not the best years of my life.” Klaus admits, burying his nose in the crook of Diego’s elbow. “I never knew my parents, and I couldn’t control my powers back then. I blew up a few things.” He says it jokingly, with a snort and an eye roll, but his grin is probably more of a grimace and Diego looks at Klaus like he sees right through him.

 

“It must have been scary.” Diego hums almost indifferently, making it clear that Klaus is welcome to talk if he wants or to remain silent if he prefers. Klaus, finally having someone who cares about him and is willing to listen to him reminisce, would prefer to talk.

 

“Yeah,” Klaus sighs, thinking about Stefan. “It was. Wasn’t all bad though— it got better after I moved to America.”

 

“When was that?” Diego stroking Klaus’ hair is actually incredibly soothing, and it sort of makes Klaus want to fall asleep on the spot. His eyes flutter closed and his toes curl under the duvet.

 

“It was… god, I must have been seventeen? Sixteen maybe? I don’t remember; it was such a long time ago and the only other person who’d know is probably in prison right about now.” He says this with a breathy little laugh, amusement covering the melancholy in his voice, but Diego’s arms tighten around him protectively so maybe he picks up on it anyway. It’s nice, so Klaus wriggles further back on the bed into Diego’s body, a warm, solid weight behind him.

 

“What do you mean?” Diego asks, voice careful like he’s trying very, very hard not to sound murderous and it’s not really working out well for him. It’s… cute. Endearing. It makes Klaus’ chest feel warm and light, the knowledge that someone cares enough about him to feel so strongly.

 

“Dirty cop,” Klaus explains simply, not entirely sure of how far Diego’s time in the police academy went. He knows he was kicked out for not following the rules - it’s not exactly a big secret - and he doesn’t want to offend the man by insinuating anything. On the other hand, he’s fairly sure Diego wouldn’t cover up evidence in human trafficking cases or hide an underage illegal immigrant in the boot of his car as he takes him to another country to get away from his past crimes.

 

“Trust me,” Klaus adds jokingly. “Being homeless was better than living with him.”

 

Diego inhales sharply. He can’t be surprised, because it was fairly obvious from Klaus’ state when they first met that he didn’t exactly have a set residence, added to the fact that there was no one he needed to inform when he moved into the mansion. But Diego sounds like this confirmation hurts him, and Klaus must be sick that he likes it.

 

Even so, he doesn’t want them to spiral into his past too far, because there are still some things he’d like to keep just to himself. Turning over in the bed he swings a leg over Diego’s waist and nips at his bicep teasingly, a sharp grin visible in the darkness of the room.

 

“How about you, big boy? Any depressing childhood tales of your own to keep us entertained?”

 

Diego laughs fondly with him for a second, fingers ghosting over Klaus’ cheek like he’s keeping himself from petting him, before he sighs and shakes his head.

 

“Too many.” He says, lips still curled up in a half smile but it’s sadder now, more serious. Klaus’ heart stutters, not fully understanding what he means. Sure, he’s heard all about how dysfunctional the Umbrella Academy siblings are, heard about the rivalry between Luther and Diego and the unresolved issues between Luther and Allison. It all sounded fairly fucked up when Klaus was a kid, but they had a luxurious home and there was always food on the table and at least they actually _had_ a family, right?

 

Except now it’s Klaus’ turn to ask, “What do you mean?” because: what if they didn’t?

 

Diego hesitates for a second, only a second, before answering.

 

“When we were... fourteen, I think? We were preparing for a mission. It wasn’t a particularly difficult one, we knew this before we left. But it didn’t matter, cause it was a mission and we were excited, y’know?”

 

Klaus nods because he feels like he does know, because all he’s ever known throughout his life is violence or abandonment and out of the two violence is definitely more exciting, because Diego needs him to say yes right now. Diego smiles like maybe he doesn’t believe him, but appreciates it nonetheless.

 

“I was getting ready in my room. My mom came in, helped me get ready or something. I don’t remember. But I was trying to speak, and I kept fucking stuttering.”

 

Both two things that Klaus has heard of but has yet to witness. The illusive Grace Hargreeves has yet to make an appearance for as long as Klaus has been at the Academy, and Diego has always seemed so assured of himself, so confident. His stutter is something Klaus knows about through the media but has never seen firsthand, which he supposes is a good thing judging on how insecure it makes Diego.

 

“Mom helped me through it. She told me to picture the word in my mind, and it worked. I could do it. She told me that she was proud of me.” Diego’s voice cracks on this sentence, and Klaus chooses not to acknowledge it. “Reginald was in the door. He heard her.”

 

Klaus gets a sinking feeling in his stomach, knows that whatever direction this story is heading in won’t be a good one.

 

“He _reprogrammed_ her.” Diego spits, voice unusually thick. “We came back from the mission and she was different. He had— had _changed_ her, because of me. Because she showed emotion.”

 

Klaus doesn’t know what to say to that - doesn’t think there is anything you can say to a story like that - but he feels his hatred for Reginald Hargreeves build up inside him. This is worse than when he watched five broken children trudge home, Ben’s broken body somewhere else. Hates him worse than he hates his own mother, more than he hates Stefan, because he hurt Diego, and no one should ever be allowed to hurt someone as wonderful as Diego.

 

“I’m sorry.” Klaus murmurs. Even though it feels shitty and weak, its all he had to offer. That, and himself. He can only hope that it’s enough for Diego; maybe it’s the drug, maybe it’s the warm, soft, intimate atmosphere settled around them, but in this moment Klaus wants to change. He wants to be a better person, someone deserving of a man like Diego, which sucks because he knows by tomorrow night if not earlier he’ll be itching for another high anyway.

 

“It’s not your fault.” Diego tells him, kissing him, and Klaus supposes that that marks the end of that particular conversation. But the memory lingers in the back of Klaus’ mind the next day, when he’s almost sober and he’s fighting Five, watching Luther and Diego spar, watching Vanya leave the kitchen in the midst of a panic attack and Allison follow her out hurriedly.

 

Maybe he’d be a little less fucked up, Klaus supposes, if he’d ever had parents. Then again, looking at what remains of the Hargreeves’, maybe he wouldn’t.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fantasyxswap) You can leave a prompt or just say hi :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s not massive but there’s a tad of somnophilia towards the end of this chapter so if that grosses you out you might want to skip that bit. Enjoy! <3

2011 - Aged 22:

 

Klaus figures that his powers are strongest both when he’s sober and when he’s scared. Scared or angry or any variation of those emotions really, because that’s what he had been feeling the first time he had burnt down the group home and with that man in the shelter.

 

So of course he has to test this theory. This is unfortunate in some ways, because it involves putting himself in situations which scare him and make him - potentially - dangerous. But it balances out, Klaus reasons happily, with the fact that if he succeeds in this he’ll be in a permanent state of safety and might even be able to use his powers to help others. That’s worth it, in his opinion.

 

Luckily for Klaus, he knows some of the seediest parts of the city, and he knows just where to go to find some creep to scare him. He doesn’t even have to do anything like he’d been planning, just stand up against the back wall of a club with his leg crooked at the knee and a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers before someone notices him.

 

“Hey, baby.” Someone leers, and a man emerges from the darkness. “You look bored. Need someone to show you a good time?” This man is trouble, Klaus can tell, from the little collection of ghosts he has surrounding him. Klaus focuses on ignoring these ghosts and instead giving the guy the most disgusted look he can muster.

 

“Not from you.” Klaus dismisses, looking straight ahead again and clenching his jaw. His heart is beating like crazy and he can hear blood rushing in his ears, fear and adrenaline mixing into one addictive cocktail.

 

“Little bitch,” the guy smirks, advancing until he’s leaning against the wall far too close to Klaus. “Playing hard to get, huh? I know you’re a slut, baby, you don’t have to play pretend.”

 

Now a swirl of anger is injected in with the fear and excitement, and Klaus can feel his fingertips tingling with excess energy. He can feel it gathering, feels the need to direct it at someone and let it out.

 

“Just fuck off.” Klaus mutters, because as much as he wants to practise he doesn’t really want to hurt someone who doesn’t really deserve it. Maybe he shouldn’t have hesitated, though, because the next thing he knows the guy has him by the neck and his feet are dangling inches above the ground. The man smashes his head back into the bricks and one meaty hand drags down his chest to his belt.

 

 _Really_? Klaus thinks, _this_ _guy_ _is_ _gonna_ _do_ _this_ _right_ _here_ _out_ _in_ _the_ _open_? Surely someone would notice, would call the police. But this isn’t that kind of neighbourhood, Klaus realises, and thank god he has his powers because if this was anyone else they’d be fucking doomed right now.

 

Klaus feels no guilt when he smashes his hand flat into the man’s chest, a beam of blue light surging from his palm and sending the asshole flying back into the wall behind him. He smashes into the bricks and doesn’t get back up; Klaus laughs maniacally, high on the adrenaline rush, but when he sees people side-eying him suspiciously he thinks maybe he ought not to stick around to find out whether they guy gets back up or not.

 

He has bruises around his neck for the next week and a half, but he knows that guy will probably never try and attack anyone else after that, and that makes it worth it.

 

2019 - Aged 30:

 

He wakes to a shout and a loud crash; granted, in this house that isn’t usually a surprising occurrence, but usually it’s a result of Diego and Five clashing over something as inconsequential as the last pot of coffee, and since Diego is lying next to him he doubts that is the case.

 

Diego groans and rolls over next to him, attempting to bury his face in the pillow. Klaus snorts out a little appreciative laugh, content to just lie in relative silence and watch Diego: his hair is a sweaty mess, sticking up in every direction, and Klaus’ fingers twitch with the desire to run his hands through it. His stubble has grown out - sue him, but Klaus likes to watch Diego shave, and he hasn’t done for a while now - so his jawline looks extra sharp. He’s naked from the waist up, and his nipple ring glints tantalisingly in the morning light.

 

Klaus is just about to reach over and wake him up in a much nicer way, when the noise comes again. Diego sits bolt upright, because this time it’s the unmistakeable sound of a window shattering.

 

“What the fuck?” Diego mutters, throwing back the bed sheets and crossing the floor over to the door quickly. Klaus, who loves eating up the cliches, hovers nervously in the bed dressed in Diego’s t-shirt and a pair of boxers. The t-shirt hangs off his shoulders and despite the potential danger of the situation it’s gratifying to see Diego’s eyes lingering on Klaus’ neck, on the marks he left there last night.

 

“Luther?” Diego calls, cracking the door open. There’s no reply for a second except for another thundering crash, and then Luther’s voice distantly. He’s shouting something - something like a question - but it doesn’t sound like ‘Diego’.

 

It sounds like Allison.

 

Diego’s face hardens. He doesn’t even wait to pull on a shirt as he rips the door fully open. “Stay here.” He orders Klaus, sounding every bit the commanding Umbrella Academy kid that Klaus hasn’t encountered since he first arrived here a few weeks ago.

 

Then he’s gone, ripping out of the room and leaving Klaus completely alone, completely bewildered. Stay here? _Really_? What is he, a fucking baby? Who knows what’s happening out there: they could be getting killed, and he could be using his powers to actually help them, like they’ve been training him to do! Instead he’s cooped up in the bedroom, protecting himself like the selfish bastard he’s always been. The first sign of danger and he runs - always has.

 

He can’t do that anymore, not when there are people he actually cares about. Even Five, with his cutting sneer and deceivingly cherubic angel face.

 

Klaus grabs the nearest pair of trousers - okay, the second nearest, because now is really not the time to try and wriggle into his lace up leather pants - and hops into them, padding barefoot across the hall. Now he’s nearer he can better hear what’s going on - Luther’s voice rings clearly above the others’.

 

“Allison? _Allison_ — where are you? Fuck, Vanya, there’s one here. Has anyone seen Allison?”

 

Rounding the corner, Klaus peers over the balcony and sees— he’s not even sure what he’s seeing. There’s Luther and Vanya back to back in the centre of the hallway, and two strangers wearing suits are advancing on them from either side. Klaus watches as the woman tries to roundhouse kick Luther, watches as Luther catches her leg and swings her into the wall. With anybody else, Klaus knows from experience, that would be enough to knock them out for at least two hours, but the woman just staggers back to her feet and rushes forward. Like Diego said: what the fuck? Is this the threat they had recruited Klaus to fight against? If so, why isn’t he fighting? And where the hell is Diego?

 

“Klaus,” Ben says suddenly, startling Klaus by popping up next to him unexpectedly. His arms are crossed and he has a vaguely disapproving expression on his face, a cross between concern and paranoia. “Be careful.”

 

“Shut up, Ben.” Klaus says distractedly, not really meaning it. “What am I even doing here if I don’t try and help?”

 

“You’re here to train!” Ben replies passionately. “You haven’t trained yet. What if you got hurt?”

 

Klaus smirks humourlessly. “Baby, my whole life has been training. So what if I get hurt? What if Diego gets hurt, and I could have stopped it?” Ben swallows, looking torn, like maybe he’s glad someone cares about his brother enough to jump in the middle of a fight for him but he’s also wishing he could tie Klaus to the bed until everything has died down a bit.

 

“Look, I’m sorry, but—“ Klaus starts, but is cut off by a short, sharp scream. Ben pops right out of existence, and when Klaus checks the hallway again only one intruder is left. Luther whips around because that scream was unmistakably Allison.

 

Klaus doesn’t waste another second— and he’s seriously hoping that being flexible in bed translates to being gracefully athletic. Using what upper body strength he has, he vaults himself over the balcony and only lets the natural instinct to levitate kick in when he’s almost on the ground.

 

“Go!” He shouts at Luther, using his split concentration to form a half assed shield around his own body. “Find her. I’ve got this!”

 

Luther shoots him an indecipherable look but doesn’t hesitate, leaving Klaus along to fight the man remaining. Logically he knows he could incapacitate this man with his powers in five seconds flat, but his heart is still thumping against his ribcage erratically. He’s scared, and he really wishes he knew where Diego was.

 

The man brings a hard, black briefcase down on the forcefield Klaus has around himself. It glimmers blue for a second, knocking the man back a few steps, before he can literally feel it cracking and crumbling, along with his concentration.

 

Shit, okay, maybe he’s still a little high.

 

The man swings at him again, and he only just manages to roll out of the way, body sliding easily across the floor. Klaus kicks out, managing to catch the man’s ankle: he stumbles, which gives Klaus just enough time to scramble back to his feet and brace himself, trying desperately to kick start his powers. Why fail him now? He’s been huh hundreds of times before: sure, then he’d never needed to use his powers with the same power or urgency he does now, but it still seems like cosmic injustice.

 

The man runs at him and he just has enough time to leap up and headbutt him on the nose - hears the satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage being broken - before the hears footsteps and the woman who had been fighting Luther is limping hurriedly towards him. _Fuck_ , he thinks. He’s going to die here. Alone.

 

But instead of attacking Klaus, she stops in front of him and grabs the other man’s arm, wrestling the briefcase off him. “Who the hell is he?” She cries, jerking her thumb at Klaus, who stands frozen in bafflement. This whole scene holds a sense of comical surreality.

 

“One of them.” The man spits in reply. The woman’s fingers are fumbling with the clasps of the briefcase, and Klaus knows he should stop her. She probably has a whole new box of deadly weapons in there ready to kill him with, but he feels slow and lethargically heavy every time he tries to so much as lift a finger. He is, essentially, useless.

 

“Stop!” Klaus hears Vanya scream but he doesn’t turn around, can’t turn to look at her. “Don’t let them open the—” They open it. There’s a short, sharp flash of blinding white light, and then it’s like they’ve vanished into thin air. A lot like Five, Klaus thinks absentmindedly.

 

“Briefcase.” Vanya finishes lamely.

 

Klaus is barely conscious of the others showing up, glances apathetically at Allison hobbling along on one ankle, arm slung Luther’s shoulder and a trail of blood dripping from her nose like a faucet. Five’s shirt is ripped, but otherwise he looks fine. Pissed, but unharmed.

 

Diego comes jogging up lastly, pushing past the others to grip Klaus’ face between his hands, turns his head this way and that as he checks for injuries. He looks intent, but in the sort of way that Klaus has grown used to over the years, the sort of way that betrays the fury underneath.

 

“Why didn’t you stay upstairs?” Diego mutters under his breath, loud enough for Klaus to hear but nobody else. “I told you to stay upstairs.”

 

Klaus’ eyes snap to Diego’s face in front of his, and the knot in his chest loosens a bit. That’s concern in Diego’s eyes, not anger. He should know better than to let his past affect the way he sees people now. Even so, he’s a little annoyed by this. If he hadn’t come downstairs who knew what would have happened to Allison, or Luther or any of the others? And Diego shouldn’t get to decide when he’s ready to use his powers.

 

He doesn’t want to say all this in front of the others - it’ll just seem like a lover’s spat - but he is preparing to defend himself when Luther interrupts.

 

“Where were you?” He demands, eyes narrowing at Klaus, arm tightening around Allison instinctively, protectively. “We were fighting; where the hell were you?”

 

Okay, this has got to be cosmic injustice. He literally cannot win with these people— he has tried so hard to win their favour but he’s fighting a losing battle here, and Diego is the only reason he continues to fight.

 

“Hey,” Diego objects, stepping in between them again. Klaus glances to the sofa just barely visible in the living room, reminded of a similar scene a few weeks back. So much has changed since then, he can’t even begin to put everything together. “Back off, man. I told him not to come down, okay? He’s not ready.”

 

“Oh, really?” Luther sneers, easing Allison down into Vanya’s arms and fully turning to Diego. “Wonder why that is, huh?”

 

“Fuck off.” Diego spits. It looks, Klaus thinks, like it’s about to turn into a full blown fist fight unless someone steps in, and it doesn’t look like anyone else is going to

 

“Hey!” He shoves past Diego, stepping in the middle of the circle. “Would anyone mind telling me what the fuck just happened?”

 

“Klaus,” Vanya starts, but Luther glares at her over his shoulder until she shuts her mouth with an audible gulp.

 

“Well, Where was Allison then?” Diego snaps, apparently still not having let things drop. “If we needed all hands on deck why wasn’t she fighting?”

 

“ _She_ was helping Five get out.” Allison replies fiercely. This is chaos, Klaus can’t help but think.

 

“I don’t need help.” Five mutters, but goes largely unnoticed whilst Diego and Luther face off in a startling - inappropriately arousing - show of manly aggression.

 

“Klaus, why don’t you go upstairs?” Vanya asks kindly, ever the family peacemaker. Klaus bristles at the suggestion, even though he knows she didn’t mean anything by it, and waits for Diego to jump to his defence like he usually does.

 

He doesn’t. In fact, when Klaus shouts Diego a puppy-dog-eyes, betrayed look, he avoids Klaus’ gaze entirely, choosing to stare down at some vague point over Luther’s shoulder instead, jaw clenched in irritation and repressed emotion.

 

“Maybe it would be for the best.” He agrees strictly. Klaus swallows the lump in his throat, blinks rapidly and hopes no one can tell he’s blinking back tears.

 

“Right.” He grits his teeth, keeping his face steady and controlled as he walks away, up the stairs and into his own bedroom rather than Diego’s. He’s still wearing Diego’s t-shirt, which really isn’t helpful when he’s imagining cussing the man out, but pathetically he still wants the comfort. He sort of feels like climbing out the window and stealing away into the night, but in addition to training his powers he’s also been learning to stop running away from his problems, so the best he can do is close the door and crawl into bed fully clothed.

 

“Klaus,” Ben starts, popping up next to him. Klaus groans and drags the cover over his head, having no doubt that Ben saw all of that.

 

“Not now, Ben.” He moans sadly. Ben hesitates before Klaus feels the bed dip, feels Ben’s hand smoothing over his back comfortingly. It feels glitchy, a weak connection just like earlier on, but he appreciates the comfort.

 

“Hey, come on.” Ben tugs on his hair playfully, but when that doesn’t get so much as a smile out of Klaus he sighs and settles back onto the bed. Eventually, he says, “You know, I am hanging around here pretty much all of the time. Which means I know almost everything that goes on. Too much, a lot of the time.”

 

Klaus’ head pops out from under the duvet in time to see Ben wrinkling his nose in memory of disgust. He tilts his head questioningly. Ben sighs again, and if he wasn’t already dead then he probably would be by the time he had finished dealing with Klaus.

 

“I’m gonna tell you because I see what you’re doing pretty much all the time, and I know you’re no threat.” Klaus ignores the sting that that causes, the idea that Diego still doesn’t trust him, that none of the others do. But Ben is here and corporeal and offering to explain everything to him, so he isn’t going to complain.

 

“Look,” Ben starts. “A while ago, Five went forward in time. He landed in the apocalypse and couldn’t get back.” Klaus sits up, ramrod straight. Ben waves his hand dismissively. “It’s a long story, and not the point right now. The point is, he spent years trying to get back and he started working for a group called the Commission. They killed people who would try and mess with the timeline.”

 

Klaus swallows, struggling to comprehend all this. There had been rumours, of course, and it had been fun to tease Five about seeming so much older. There had been several theories about where he had disappeared to for those weeks he had been gone, and people had said that he had come back different. But hearing it all laid out so openly… Klaus can understand why he always acts like such a little bitch a bit better now.

 

“Except he left early, and he stopped the apocalypse. They had to come back and live through their timeline again, but this time they did it right. The apocalypse never happened, but the Commission are obviously still pretty pissed at him. They’re sending agents after him and if they get him them then… they honestly have no idea what could happen. They don’t know if they could kickstart another apocalypse or not. All they know is that they have to be stronger if they’re going to keep avoiding the agents.”

 

“Which is why I’m here.” Klaus fills in the blanks, feeling a weight settle heavy over his shoulders. “And why Allison had to get Five out of there.” Ben doesn’t offer any information about why the apocalypse started in the first place, or what he means by ‘did things right’, so Klaus doesn’t ask. He just slumps back into his bed and breathes, slow and deep.

 

He spends the next few hours like that, twitching every time there’s a noise outside his door. He hopes each time that it’ll be Diego sneaking into his room, apologising for earlier, asking him to go back to his bedroom, explaining what happened.

 

It never happens. Klaus’ door remains shut, and even though Ben is right next to him Klaus feels completely alone.

 

***

 

It’s around two in the morning by the time Klaus slinks out of his room and ventures down the hallway. He’s already fingered himself open, not wanting to waste time when he gets to Diego’s room, and even though it still feels like his heart is aching a little and he’s far too sober for his own liking, but he craves this intimacy like it’s just another drug. It’s so fucking pathetic that he can’t go a night without it.

 

Diego is sleeping when Klaus pushes the door open and closes it behind him. Of course he is, it’s the early hours of the morning, and little slivers of silver moonlight are illuminating his face. He’s beautiful like this, even in sleep, looks so handsome, almost naked save for a pair of boxers. Klaus manages to crawl into the bed with him and straddle his hips without waking Diego: he stirs a little and his nose scrunches cutely, but his eyes don’t open. Klaus rocks his hips forward and back, grinding his ass down onto Diego’s cock through the fabric of his underwear until he feels it start to harden underneath him, hears Diego’s breath catch and sees his eyes flitting about under his eyelids, his unconscious mind trying to make sense of the pleasure.

 

Klaus tugs on the waistband of Diego’s boxers until he can wrap a hand around the man’s cock and stroke it once, twice, into full hardness. Diego wakes with a gasp, hips jerking into Klaus’ hand almost involuntarily.

 

“Kl- Klaus?” Diego stutters, blinking blearily until his eyes have adjusted to the dark. Klaus hadn’t really cared about anyone else seeing him and had left his own room completely naked, dick already hard and leaking precome at the tip.

 

“Yes, sir.” Klaus whisper-moans, scooting down the bed briefly to rub the tip of Diego’s cock over his tongue back and forth, before crawling back up his body and sucking various bruises into his chest, his pecs. “Need you so bad.”

 

Klaus holds himself up with a knee either side of Diego’s waist, reaches underneath him to stroke his cock a couple of times before holding it upright and positioning the tip at his entrance. Diego is still making sleepy, confused noises but when Klaus sinks down into his cock he throws his head back and groans so loudly that Klaus wouldn’t be surprised if they woke Luther up next door. Good, he thinks. Let him stew in there and listen to Klaus fuck his brother.

 

“Klaus, what the fuck?” Diego gasps, fucking up into the warm, wet hole despite his contradictory words. “What are you playing, huh?”

 

“Just need you so bad, sir.” Klaus repeats, riding Diego’s cock at a brutal pace. Diego’s hands on his hips help him to anticipate each movement, clench around his cock as he moves up and circle his hips when he’s fully seated on Diego’s cock again.

 

“Was good for you all night,” Klaus tells him truthfully. “Didn’t touch myself all night, only to get ready for your cock. Gonna just come on your cock, sir.”

 

Diego is already losing control, eyes wild and untameable, like maybe he was thinking about this as well. Klaus likes that idea, that he was in here thinking about Klaus whilst Klaus was fingering himself open, preparing himself for Diego’s dick.

 

“Gonna come in me, sir?” Klaus moans breathily, doesn’t bother to hide the tear that rolls down his face. His throat feels sore but he feels good like this: not in control, exactly, because despite being on top Diego has the control here and they both know it. But Klaus came here by choice. He fucked himself on his own fingers, found Diego’s room all by himself. Klaus is in control of his own loss of control, and it feels weirdly successful.

 

“You been good, yeah?” Diego mutters, his cock feeling wonderful inside Klaus. It’s long and thick and hot, perfect to rock back onto. Klaus knows he isn’t allowed to reach for his own dick, so he concentrates on dropping himself onto Diego so that the tip of his cock hits Klaus’ prostate. He makes it a game, teases himself until he’s hypersensitive and on edge, Diego’s words threatening to tip him over.

 

“You’ve always been a good boy, though, haven’t you.” Diego tells him, sounding so wrecked already. “Always made me proud. Never disappoint, do you baby boy?”

 

Klaus hurtles over the edge unstoppable, his cock jumping between his legs and spitting come over Diego’s stomach. Without hesitation Diego thrusts up and rolls them over so that Klaus is on his back, legs bent in half with Diego cradled between them, hips rocking forward rhythmically. Diego fucks his through his orgasm, and then keeps fucking him until he’s oversensitive and sobbing and so fucking turned on even though he physically can’t get hard again.

 

Diego comes with a tiny little gut-punched noise, hips rutting against Klaus’ ass; he pulls out as he’s still coming and some of it drips down the small of Klaus’ back, sticking and wet. Diego flops back onto the bed, breathless.

 

Klaus, shameless as ever, stands completely naked and covered in come. He stretches his arms over his head until his joints click satisfyingly and runs a finger through the come on his back, wincing at the burn in his ass whenever he tries to walk. He’s halfway to the door by the time Diego notices he’s leaving.

 

“Aren’t you staying?” Diego asks, voice small for the first time since Klaus has met him. He wants so desperately to turn back, to fall into Diego’s arms and stay there forever, but then he remembers how Diego had left him alone in his room for hours, had basically told him that he wasn’t one of them in front of everybody else.

 

“Not tonight.” Klaus says with a sad smile, and leaves.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realise I’ve never really addressed this fic in regard to the timeline!! So this is set in an alternate timeline, where they were able to go back in time and stop the apocalypse but the Commission are aware of it and are trying to catch Five. Its pretty much all discussed in this chapter but just in case there’s any confusion. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there’s been such a long wait! I’ve been sans wifi for a few days now, but I’ve pre written a bunch of chapters so when I get back updates should be more frequent! <3

2013 - Aged 24:

 

Klaus meets a boy.

 

Technically, this boy is a man and this man is dead, but Klaus likes the poetic beauty of saying, “I met a boy,” so he says it anyway. His name is Dave and he died in the Vietnam war, back in 1968. He died before Klaus was even born, and yet somehow he breaks through Klaus’ wall of drugs and alcohol and becomes Klaus’ best friend. Klaus’ only friend.

 

He follows him for a long time before he actually says anything, despite Klaus trying to initiate conversation many times before this. Maybe it’s getting used to someone actually being able to see him again, maybe it’s adjusting to the twenty first century, but Klaus just doesn’t understand why tales of him waxing his ass don’t work as ice breakers. The guy could have at least laughed.

 

But when Dave does start talking - and he isn’t an old fashioned asshole like most old people Klaus has met in his life - he discovers that they get on quite well. Dave is funny and quick witted and he always takes care of Klaus as much as he can. It’s nagging at first, but after a while of him pestering Klaus to drink or asking him how much sleep he got, Klaus grows used to it. He’s not sure it can be called care exactly, because Dave is dead and if it does turn out that Klaus has been crazy this whole time and the ghosts were just a figment of his imagination then it will have been his own consciousness taking care of himself.

 

That’s a problem for another day, though, and today Klaus is content to let Dave fuss over how much he’s eaten.

 

“Half a slice of toast is not an acceptable dinner, Klaus.” Dave sighs from his position next to Klaus. They’re in an abandoned warehouse that probably hasn’t been safe for thirty years, but Klaus needs somewhere to sleep and it’s pouring outside.

 

“It’s more than enough!” Klaus argues back, curled up into a ball on the floor to try and preserve warmth. “I don’t see anyone lining up to make me a gourmet meal around here, do you?” Dave sighs and rests his chin on his knees, watching Klaus. The wound in his chest peeks out from between his arms, but Klaus has grown used to ignoring it now and he knows from experience not to ask about these things.

 

“You’re hungry.” Dave points out, like an asshole.

 

“You’re dead,” Klaus retorts. He hears Dave give a half amused, half exasperated groan and snickers to himself. “Look, I appreciate the concern but I won’t be able to get any food until tomorrow. Not in this weather. So just… just quiet down and let me go to sleep.”

 

There’s silence, and then a shuffling noise. Klaus cracks an eye open suspiciously to see Dave shuffling along the floor towards him. He stops when he’s less than a metre away from Klaus, looks down at him fondly and reaches a hand out.

 

Klaus squeezes his eyes shut immediately, already expecting the ghostly tremor that shivers through him as Dave’s hand disappears. What would, in an ideal universe, be Dave petting Klaus’ hair turns out to be Dave’s hand going through Klaus’ head and bringing a cold, sick feeling with it. Klaus still has no idea what happened with Ana all those years ago, how he managed to make her corporeal enough to start a fucking fire, but he hasn’t been able to do it since.

 

“You know you’re only here until I sort out your unfinished business, right?” Klaus says quietly, because it never pays to get attached to anything too deeply. Dave snorts, lies down next to him close enough for Klaus to feel how he doesn’t even need to breathe.

 

“Oh yeah?” He answers playfully, eyebrow raised in amused doubt. “How many _unfinished_ _businesses_ have you sorted out?” Klaus snorts out a laugh unexpectedly.

 

“Drop dead.” He replies, not meaning it at all.

 

 

2019 - Aged 30:

 

Despite it seeming utterly impossible, nothing changes. Klaus sleeps in Diego’s bed the next night like nothing has changed, sleeps with the man too: mostly because he misses him, feels like he can’t breathe whenever he’s away from him for too long which is completely pathetic when Klaus thinks about it, but also partly because he thinks maybe if he shows Diego how much he means to him, the man will trust him enough to tell the truth.

 

Because as much as Ben tries to argue against this fact, it’s not important that Klaus knows the truth. It’s important that Diego tells him, because every night after they’ve finished and Diego is spooning him from behind, making him feel so safe and secure and cared for, it feels like his heart is cracking. Ben’s suggestion of ‘just, y’know, _talk_ to him Klaus’ is not appreciated at all for a number of reasons, because what could he do? Explain to Diego very calmly that his dead brother told Klaus the truth and he’s hurt that Diego didn’t trust him enough to? Or ask Diego to tell him the truth and risk him getting angry, risk him sending Klaus away permanently this time?

 

No. Klaus absolutely cannot do that.

 

But he also can’t stay sober. He tries, of course, because he actually has something worth trying for now, and with Ben’s constant nagging it feels like it’s the only way he’ll get any peace of mind. But of course he doesn’t have peace of mind either way. He makes it through a day and a half of going cold turkey before his hands start trembling and he starts sweating and gruesome figures start fading into existence all around him.

 

So he sneaks out in the night, like before. On a particularly bad night - or good, depending on the perspective - he spends just over an hour smoking grass with a bunch of people he’s never met before, and by the time he’s crawled back into Diego’s room and pawed the man awake his high is going fuzzy around the edges, just the way Klaus prefers. He feels warm and loose and he’s with Diego now, so he feels safe. It’s almost the same feeling he gets when Diego takes care of him and he lets himself go.

 

“Diego,” he croons softly, kissing his way down Diego’s exposed stomach until he’s reaches the man’s waistband. He scrapes his teeth over his hips and whines until Diego stirs awake, until he winds his fingers into Klaus’ hair and petted his head.

 

“Klaus?” He asks, voice sleepy and rough. “You wanna play, baby?”

 

Klaus whines and nods against Diego’s hip, grinning when he pushes down his own boxers and kicks them off; Klaus spits into his own palm immediately and wraps it around Diego’s cock, wasting no time in getting him hard and getting his mouth around him.

 

Klaus loves sucking Diego off— he’s good at it, for one, and Diego is so vocally appreciative. He always tells Klaus when he’s doing a good job, being a good boy, and always guides him when he wants something in particular. It’s something Klaus can’t mess up, can’t get wrong. He spends a few minutes just suckling on the head, digging the tip of his tongue into the slit and enjoying the way precome beads and drips onto his tongue.

 

Diego gets a firmer hand on the back of Klaus’ head, holds him steady and circles his hips. His cock hits the back of Klaus’ throat and he gags a little, but Diego holds him through it and pushes him past it until his lips are stretched around the base of his dick and he can swallow around the tip. Diego lets out a satisfied sigh as Klaus moans around his erection, humming vibrations traveling up his cock.

 

“Just so good at this, sweetheart.” He pets Klaus’ hair leisurely, fucks up into his mouth at the same time. “Love the way you feel around me. So perfect, such a good boy.”

 

Klaus groans, and Diego comes down his throat. Klaus is barely conscious of crawling up into bed and curling up around Diego before his eyes are fluttering shut and he’s falling into a dreamless sleep.

 

The next morning he wakes to a crick in his neck and an empty bed. He can hear voices outside the door and he feels a dawning sense of dreaded déjà vu. The last time this happened Ben told him not to interrupt, and he’s sure that didn’t mean eavesdrop instead but it works for Klaus. Besides, if they wanted to have private conversations they shouldn’t do it right outside the fucking door.

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” That’s definitely Diego’s voice, sounded familiarly pissed off. “Just stay out of this. It’s none of your business.”

 

“Oh really?” Luther replies, matching his angry tone. “And you do? Please, if you knew you’d be rubbing it in our faces by now. Why tell us in the first place if you didn’t think something was going on? You don’t get to say it’s none of our business when it’s only your business because you’re _fucking_ _him_.”

 

Klaus reels backwards as if he’s been slapped. He’s half expecting Ben to show up around now, tell him to stop listening or communicate with Diego properly or something equally responsible, but Klaus remains alone. If he’d suspected it before, there’s no denying now that they’re talking about him, about Diego suspecting something. His chest feels hollow, like everything has been scooped out of there. His heart, his lungs, everything. It feels like he can’t breathe, and he’s ninety percent certain it’s not just a bad comedown.

 

“Luther,” Vanya chimes in, and great. That’s just fucking great. They’re having a family meeting right outside his fucking door about him— something that Klaus will never be invited to because he will never be family. He can live with them and eat with them and fight with them and apparently even sleep with them, and it doesn’t mean a goddamn thing, because they’ll always be them and he’ll always be him.

 

“Don’t take it out on Diego,” she reprimands. “It’s not his fault.”

 

Right, because it’s Klaus’ fault. Whatever it is, whatever problem he’s caused, it will undoubtably be his fault. It always is.

 

“I’m telling you,” Diego speaks, softer now that Vanya has defended him. “There will be an explanation for it. I _know_ it. And if you give me a bit more time I’ll find out.”

 

Klaus sits back in the bed, pulls the covers up to his chin and closes his eyes. He can feel tears building up behind his eyelids but he doesn’t let them fall; if Diego comes back in then he’ll pretend to be asleep or sick, but he can’t listen to another word of it. He knew Diego didn’t trust him, but he didn’t think he distrusted him.

 

He doesn’t even notice when the voices stop, when the door creaks open and Diego sits down on the bed next to him. Klaus keeps his eyes shut and tries to even his breathing out so it looks like he’s been asleep this whole time. He has no idea what time it is, but he’s not usually awake until late so Diego shouldn’t have any problem believing the deception.

 

“Klaus?” He asks, voice so caring and tender that Klaus can’t even blame himself for believing it. “You awake, baby?”

 

Klaus remains silent, motionless, until Diego sighs and there’s the sound of the door swinging shut after him.

 

***

He gets high a lot more after that, and not just at night. He lights up in the bathroom, with the door locked and the window cracked open and an obnoxious can of deodorant on hand. He pops a pill or two before breakfast so he can get through the day without falling apart, and when he stumbles more than usual - takes more hits to the face than usual - in training, the others don’t question it. It consolidates everything Klaus suspected and everything he didn’t want to be true.

 

They don’t really care, so he can get away with anything.

 

Which is why it’s such a surprise, then, when everything goes wrong. It’s been a normal night in that Klaus had crept out of Diego’s room and propped himself up against the fire escape earlier, snorted something that he wasn’t one hundred percent on. When he sneaks back into Diego’s room there’s a buzz under his skin, a restless energy that he wants to get rid of. He wants to be held, filled, fucked, until the incessant noise in his head has all but disappeared.

 

So he rolls Diego until he’s lying on his back in bed, straddles his waist and rolls their hips together. Klaus isn’t hard, has a feeling that it’s not just the powder up his nose that’s stopping him from getting turned on, but he keeps going. Maybe if Diego speaks to him with that same adoring tone, that same rigid control, maybe it’ll turn him on rather than make him want to throw up.

 

Except when he tries to brush their lips together, Diego’s eyebrows furrow and he tries to roll Klaus off him. “Klaus, knock it off.” He tries to say, pushing at Klaus’ knees where they’re positioned on either side of him.

 

Klaus swallows back tears: he knew this would happen, but he didn’t expect Diego to stop wanting him so soon. Later he’ll wonder if he can entirely blame this on the drugs or if a large part of this was actually his own insecurities, but he doesn’t knock it off. Maybe, he thinks, if he makes Diego come hard enough the man won’t get tired of him.

 

He settles a hand over Diego’s crotch through his sweatpants and tries rubbing it to hardness, but Diego’s eyes flicker open and he grabs Klaus’ wrist, holding him still. He sits up suddenly with his back against the headboard, and Klaus tries to follow him shamelessly, tries to crawl into his lap and capture his face between his hands.

 

“Klaus, stop.” Diego tells him, turning his face away from Klaus’ lips. “Klaus, _stop_!”

 

Klaus falls back suddenly, exhausted and scared and miserable. Diego looks angrier than Klaus thought he would be, and he knows the man would never hit him but he can’t help the natural urge to back away and put a good five metres between them.

 

“Diego—” Klaus starts, not sure if he means to yell or apologise, but Diego interrupts him.

 

“Where have you been?” He demands, point blank. Klaus freezes.

 

“What?” He asks dumbly.

 

“Where have you been?” Diego repeats stonily. “Tell me. Tell me where you go every night when you sneak out, when you think no one notices. Tell me what you do, because I’ve been making excuses for you for weeks now and now I’m not so sure I should _bother_!”

 

Klaus sucks in a breath, as shocked as he would be if Diego had physically slapped him. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut, all the wind knocked out of him, nothing left. Making excuses? What did they think he’s been doing? Diego and Luther’s conversation flits through his mind: _why_ _tell_ _us_ _in_ _the_ _first_ _place_ _if_ _you_ _didn’t_ _think_ _something_ _was_ _going_ _on_? So Diego… what? Noticed Klaus was sneaking out, thought he was doing something suspicious and told the others? Is that why they’ve all been hating him since day one, why none of them have warmed up to him in the weeks he’s been here?

 

He hates the question on the tip of his tongue - it’s so unusual to him to blame other people, because it’s fairly easy to acknowledge most things can be blamed on him - but is that all… Diego’s fault?

 

Klaus pulls back. Tears are burning at the back of his throat and his head is beginning to feel hazy and thick, like someone stuffed cotton wool up his nose and he’s just been walking around with it up there.

 

“What are you saying?” Klaus asks, monotone. They must know; Diego must know, surely, because he knows Klaus has been sneaking out and why else would he be doing that? And if he knows about the drugs then that means he’s so angry _because_ of the drugs.

 

Klaus gets it, really he does. It’s not exactly something he’s proud of, the snorting and the swallowing and the smoking, but it’s been a part of his life since he was sixteen and if he could break his addiction then he would. Diego was in the police academy, he would have seen worse cases than this, but that doesn’t necessarily equate to a rational response.

 

Best case scenario, Diego’s irrationally angry response is because he actually does care about Klaus. Worst case scenario is something Klaus doesn’t even want to consider.

 

“I’m asking you to tell me the truth.” Diego says through gritted teeth, and as ill timed as it is Klaus feels a rush of anger. He’s never had a real relationship before - not that he’s assuming this is a real relationship, but it’s probably the closest thing he’s had - so he has no idea if fighting like this is typical or not, but Diego lecturing him about telling the truth just doesn’t seem fair.

 

“You want _me_ to tell the truth?” Klaus raises both eyebrows and laughs, high pitched and crazy. If Ben were here he’d tell Klaus to shut up right now, to not say another word until he actually knows what he’s going to say in advance, but Ben isn’t here, and Klaus only entertains ‘what-if’ possibilities if they could benefit him.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Diego pushes away from him and swings his legs out of the bed, standing between Klaus and the door unintentionally. It’s so conflicting, looking at Diego: on the one hand he’s Klaus’ safety, his security. He’s so handsome with his arms crossed and his chiselled jaw and hair sticking up in every direction.

 

But on the other hand, he’s also the man who potentially turned the team against Klaus, who is standing between Klaus and freedom.

 

“It’s pretty fucking self explanatory.” Klaus retorts. Diego’s eyes flash with something that might be hurt but could just as easily be anger, and for some reason that infuriates Klaus more than anything. Where does Diego get off, thinking he’s the only one that can get angry? Did he expect Klaus to just lay back and apologise? Klaus has done enough of that throughout his whole life, and he’s not prepared to do it here. Not with Diego, the first person who’s meant anything.

 

“I really don’t understand you sometimes, Klaus.” Diego snorts humourlessly, half turning and raising a hand to run it through his hair. His tone is dismissive, and Klaus feels a pang in his chest.

 

“Fuck you.” He breathes, fingers twitching with the urge to shove Diego out of the way with his powers. He fights it off, brushes past Diego and clips his shoulder on the way past.

 

“Hey— where are you going?” Diego demands, sticking his head out of the room to watch him stalk down the hall purposefully.

 

“My room!” Klaus spits back, slamming the bedroom door behind himself. He waits for a minute to see if Diego will follow him - or if any of the others heard the commotion and came out of their rooms to check up on them - but there’s no change. Klaus leans back against the door and slides down it, closing his eyes and breathing out.

 

He stands again, grabbing a jacket from out of his wardrobe. He doesn’t have a rucksack or anything like that, and he doesn’t have any money - hasn’t needed it since he moved in here - but he can’t stay here. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t have anything. He’s been in that situation his entire life— what’s another year until he can find some rich asshole to live with.

 

“Klaus,” Ben starts, and Klaus isn’t even fucking surprised. “Wait. Don’t do this, please.”

 

Instead of telling Ben to piss off like he might usually do, Klaus actually pauses with one leg dangling out of the window. He sighs, turns to the shaky figure who has come to be one of his best friends. He hopes that leaving this house doesn’t mean he loses Ben as well.

 

“I’m sorry, Ben.” He says honestly. “But you heard him in there. He doesn’t even wanna bother with me, man. There’s no point to me even being here.”

 

“That’s not true.” Ben argues, eyeing Klaus like he wishes he could pull him back into the room, but wants it to be Klaus’ own decision to stay. “You’re here for your training.”

 

“Fuck my training.” Klaus says quietly, and only realises how much he means it once he’s said it. Fuck his training. Fuck the team. Fuck Diego, fuck his addiction, fuck the apocalypse and fuck the fucking Umbrella Academy.

 

Klaus is done.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn’t wanna wait so here! Have some more angst!

2014 - Aged 25:

 

Dave does not approve of the drugs. He makes that pretty clear in the way that he always tuts and clicks his jaw and looks away whenever Klaus pulls a baggie out or tries to light up. He’s not an asshole about it like Klaus’ ex boyfriend was - he says he knew people before he enlisted that turned to alcohol to deal with their trauma, and it’s pretty much the same thing, isn’t it? - but he makes his opinion on the subject known.

 

It makes Klaus want to get sober, because he thinks he really likes Dave. It’s ridiculous, really: he’s spent his whole life using the drugs to escape the ghosts, and now he’s going to stop taking them because of a ghost. A ghost that Klaus is gradually falling in love with.

 

Crazy fucking ridiculous.

 

But it’s happening, and Klaus is as powerless to stop it as he is to stop snorting cocaine whenever he gets a chance. The worst thing, perhaps, is that he can’t even talk to his best friend about it, because his best friend is the ghost in question and contrary to past endeavours he doesn’t actually want to scare Dave off.

 

So when Dave disappears for a couple of days, Klaus feels it in his core. He tries summoning him, feels the loss of his closest friend like a stab to the heart, but it’s no use. He even gives up the coke and the oxy for a day - not the weed, because really? Weed? - but Dave still doesn’t show up, which makes Klaus think that perhaps it’s not an issue with his powers to much as an issue with Dave not wanting to show up.

 

Besides, when he lays off the drugs for too long other ghosts start shimmering into existence right in front of his eyes and that scares Klaus. Not more than losing Dave scares him, so not enough to drive him away from his brief sobriety, but enough to make him curl up into himself and cry himself to sleep when another night passes without Dave.

 

When Klaus wakes, he thinks he’s going crazy. He blinks his eyes open blearily and sees nothing but the grey brick wall he fell asleep in front of, but he can still hear Dave’s voice clear as day. He worries for a second that he is actually losing his mind, but he turns over eagerly and there’s Dave, sitting on his other side like he never left. Klaus feels tears well up in his eyes just at the sight of him, and when Dave notices he frowns.

 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. Klaus, c’mon, don’t cry. I’m right here. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave.” He shushes him, carefully not coming close to Klaus.

 

“Where did you go? What happened?” Klaus asks tearfully. This is the side of himself he can only ever show the dead. The vulnerability, the loneliness.

 

“I figured it out.” Dave replies cryptically, and Klaus’ head throbs. The sobriety is beginning to take a toll on him, but Dave is back and he knows he should be feeling better. He can’t waste time feeling sorry for himself.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“My unfinished business.” Dave says it with a watery smile, like it’s an in joke that he’s trying very hard to find funny in some very unfunny circumstances. “I figured out what it is.”

 

His words are a sedated blade, dragging across Klaus’ skin. They hurt worse than any withdrawal symptoms, any beat down he’s ever had, any rejection he’s ever faced from his birth parents or foster parents or even his johns, Jesus Christ. It feels like Dave has reached into him again, a ghostly cold vice like-grip around his heart.

 

“That’s great!” He hiccups, trying to sound genuinely enthusiastic, because it is great. It means Dave won’t have to hang around in this purgatory like state. He won’t have to suffer anymore because of Klaus’ uselessness. “What is it?”

 

There’s a beat of silence where Dave’s eyes flicker down to Klaus’ lips, and Klaus thinks he’s imagining it maybe, but then Dave replies, “You.” He leans forward and presses his lips to Klaus’, and he can feel the solid pressure of Dave’s mouth against his own. His eyes widen in shock, because it’s happening again and he has no idea why, but Dave’s lips are slowly heating up against his and he moans into it, cries helplessly because he already knows what this means.

 

“I’m sorry,” Dave says, and he’s crying too now, flickering in and out of sight like bad special effects in a movie. “I was so scared, I knew if I came back I’d have to leave. It’s just… I’ve been so scared, for so long Klaus. Scared to be myself, and then you came along and I didn’t know what it was at first but then I _realised_. You helped me realise.”

 

“You’re leaving me.” Klaus’ voice trembles, and he hates how accusing he sounds. He draws his legs up to rest his chin on his knees and wraps his arms around them. “Please, please don’t leave me.”

 

“I’m sorry, Klaus.” Dave whispers, already another painful memory. “I lo–”

 

He’s gone before he can finish the sentence, and Klaus will always be haunted by not knowing what he would have said. It’s a good thing and he tries to see it that way, because Dave will be much happier now, but the only thing he knows for sure is that he has lost the only person who might have been able to love him.

 

He won’t let it happen again.

 

2019 - Aged 30:

 

Klaus tries not to regret everything as he crawls through the window and steals away across the grass. It’s not the first time he’s had to escape through a window, and it’s not the first time he’s been crying whilst doing so, but each time it’s a fresh hurt layered on top of the others and each time it feels a little bit worse than before. Like he’s leaving a little bit more of himself behind each time.

 

He light in his bedroom is still on, and from all the way across the massive yard he can see the room, an illuminated contrast with the night. Klaus is so over entertaining possibilities, but he can’t help wander what would have happened if he had just stayed in tonight, if he hadn’t gone to smoke up on the balcony. Maybe this fight could have been prevented for a while longer; long enough for Diego to trust him, maybe. Long enough for Klaus to tell him the truth. Long enough to make a difference.

 

As much as he wants to blame the others, he can’t. This one is on him, he knows. He’s fucked it up like he always does.

 

“It’s not too late, Klaus.” Ben says from beside him. Klaus sighs and turns, bare feet cold in the wet grass. He shivers at the ghost of a distant memory, and shakes his head.

 

“I don’t belong there, Ben. It was a bad idea from the start.”

 

“You’re wrong! This is _exactly_ where you belong. You’re with other people like you, you don’t have to hide anymore Klaus. You can just be you.” Ben objects, hurrying to stand in front of Klaus and walk backwards when Klaus doesn’t stop. His words are sincere, and Klaus has no doubt that if Ben were alive he’d still be in that house right now. All he needed, Klaus knows, was one person on his side.

 

“I’ve been me this whole time.” Klaus tells Ben, because this is what he doesn’t understand. Klaus doesn’t hide who he is, he’s always honest about that. He just hides his curse, the one that nobody else wants to know about. His power, his addiction, that’s not who he is. “That’s the problem.”

 

He’s going. Klaus is going, he’s leaving, and he can’t let Ben persuade him otherwise. He can’t think of Diego, probably cooling off from their fight and going to find Klaus only to be met with an empty bedroom and no way of contacting him ever again. He’s not going to think of Allison and the way she smiled at him slightly whenever he wore a skirt she liked, Five and the way he nodded approvingly at Klaus’ coffee choice. No, he’s leaving.

 

And then he hears a scream.

 

His head whips around to the house - which is definitely where the noise came from, to Klaus’ dismay - in time to see an upstairs window shatter, and someone literally be thrown from it. It’s too far away to make out who it is, but Klaus’ heart stutters at the thought of it being Diego. Luther would be strong enough to endure it, Five could just transport to the floor safely, Vanya could catch herself with her powers.

 

Allison would be pretty fucked, and Klaus is definitely an asshole, but he’s more worried about it being Diego than her. It’s irrational, he knows, because Diego is more than capable of looking after himself. Still, he can’t help but exchange a panicked look with Ben. Why does this always happen at the most inopportune moments?

 

Klaus starts running before Ben does, and he’s unspeakably grateful to him. He knows Ben could just pop into existence wherever he wants, but it feels important that he chooses to run side by side with Klaus instead. He’s too out of breath to say thank you, both because of the exercise and also the unexpected fear and panic, but he thinks that Ben knows it anyway.

 

By the time they reach the house and stand by the little spot of shattered glass, the person is already gone. Klaus lets himself breathe out a sigh of relief; at least that means if it was Diego he isn’t seriously hurt. On the other hand, it means if it was someone attacking them, they’re strong enough to keep on attacking them.

 

Yikes.

 

The front door is locked from the inside - Klaus knows that because they made a point of doing it ever since Klaus broke in - and he doesn’t think anyone will feel inclined to pause their big fight just to let him in. He knows his window is still open, though, so he locates his room and takes a deep breath. His hands glow blue and his fingers and toes start tingling, the familiar sensation of pins and needles kicking in. He hovers a few inches above the ground…

 

And then he falls.

 

“Fuck,” He says. “No. _No_. Not now!”

 

Ben fidgets next to him, looking between Klaus and the window impatiently. “What’s going on?” He asks, sounding like he’s verging on tears. “What’s happening? Klaus, what’s the problem?”

 

“They won’t work.” Klaus spits, trying and failing to summon his power, to feel it bubbling up from his stomach to his throat to his brain. “My powers, they won’t fucking work. I don’t know why this keeps happening! It can’t be the drugs, they’ve worked through the drugs before!”

 

“Alright, _alright_ , Jesus!” Ben paces, hands gripping at his hair. Klaus thinks with panic that it’s the only time he’s seen Ben really affected by anything, and he suddenly feels a surge of regret that he never told anyone about this, never let them communicate with their brother. Feels a surge of affection towards him because, even though he never let Ben talk to his family, the man never begrudged him that. Never held it against him.

 

“Just slow down,” he’s saying, but Klaus can hardly concentrate. “Let me think. There’s got to be another way for you to get in. You could— _wait_! Fuck, I’ve got it. The basement! There’s a key to the basement in the overhead light outside the door. If you get that you can get inside from there. The stairs lead right up into the hallway.”

 

Klaus has no idea what half of what Ben said actually means, but he follows the ghost when he starts to run around the side of the house. The grass under his feet changes gradually to rocks and they cut the sole of Klaus’ foot, tiny lacerations that sting like a bitch with ever new step, but then the basement doors come into view so Klaus runs faster.

 

“Which light?” Klaus asks frantically. Ben points to one in the top left corner, glowing bright and red fucking hot.

 

“We hid it there so we wouldn’t have to climb back in through the window if we snuck out.” Ben tells him proudly, and Klaus would be happy to see Ben reliving his happiest childhood moments if it weren’t a really fucking inappropriate time. He reaches out to try and unhinge the light but it scorches his skin and he pulls his hand back with a pained yelp, cradling his arm.

 

“Just smash it!” Ben urges, and Klaus sighs. His powers are shaky enough as it is and he doesn’t want to wear himself out physically as well before he even gets inside. He’s going to need to fight, and he can’t do that if he’s ten seconds away from passing out.

 

So he wraps his sleeve around his fist and punches the light; the glass shatters and fractures around his fingers, slicing his skin despite the layer of protection. Blood drips through his fingers and down his wrist, but he has the key in his hand. He hurries to unlock the door and, after a few seconds fumbling, manages to yank the doors wide open. Ben cheers behind him and, okay, he’s a pretty good hype man.

 

The basement is dark and cold, familiar stale smell creeping up Klaus’ nose, and he feels like he’s going to throw up. For a second he’s back in the basement at the group home, hoping for Stefan to let him out so he can escape the screaming ghosts but also hoping he’ll leave him in there so he won’t have to be near the man.

 

Then he’s pushing through it, stumbling through the debris and crawling up the stairs. He trips and a searing pain shoots through his leg - great, just what he needed, a sprained ankle - but he makes it to the top somehow and stays still for a second just catching his breath. He doesn’t have time for this— they’re dicks, sure, but they’re team. _His_ team, even if he’s not theirs, and for that he has to protect him.

 

He cracks the door open and the basement is flooded with a single rectangle of light. Through the gap he can see Allison fighting one on one with two of the people who Klaus assumes are from the Commission. He picks himself up, hobbles into an upright position, and is just about to burst out and fight with Allison when one of the agents lands a punch that knocks her out cold. Blood blooms under her nose and she falls to the floor in a crumpled heap, unconscious but alive. Klaus winces in commiseration, but then the agents are running off and Klaus can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. The thought of fighting with a sprained ankle and subpar powers isn’t exactly an attractive prospect.

 

Allison doesn’t stir when Klaus pats her cheek gently. He takes off his jacket and folds it up, raising her head and sliding it underneath to work as a pillow until she does wake up. He wants to find Diego, wants to make sure he’s okay, but if Allison is here then that means Five is probably alone and that wasn’t supposed to happen.

 

“Try the kitchen?” Ben suggests, reading his mind. He nods once and sets off, limping his way through the house. On his way to the kitchen he spots an agent unconscious on the floor - or dead, but Klaus doesn’t stop to check - with their gun poking out of the suit pocket. He takes it for comfort more than anything else. It’s only a pistol, after all.

 

There’s a commotion ahead so he slows down, heart racing: there are definitely people fighting in there. Klaus raises his eyebrows at Ben expectantly, so he darts around the corner and is back five seconds later, panting.

 

“Five was in there,” he explains, out of breath, and really? He doesn’t even _need_ to breathe! “Then he transported. I don’t know where— there are just three agents in there now. We should probably skedaddle.”

 

Klaus nods, a little relieved, and prepares to back away. Only when he does he backs into a tiny waist high set of drawers; a vase full of inappropriately timed daffodils topples to the floor and breaks against the hardwood floor. Klaus freezes, shares a terrified look with Ben. There’s silence in the next room and then footsteps, heavy with intent, heading towards him. He tries desperately to form a shield around himself but his powers are useless, flickering in and out like a bad TV signal.

 

In a burst of final desperation he crouches down just to the side of the doorway. As soon as a figure emerges he leaps onto their back, manages through some act of God to get them in a headlock and aims his pistol at their skull. He doesn’t even have time to check to see who it is, so if it does turn out to be one of the Umbrella Academy then he’ll have to apologise profusely.

 

Thankfully - and it’s a strange thing to be thankful for, Klaus realises - it’s not. In fact Klaus recognises it as the man he fought with previously. Coincidences, huh?

 

“Stay back!” Klaus screeches, shaking his gun a little more to make it more apparent. He has no clue if this will work on time travelling future agents or if they’ll just let him kill the guy and then pump his body full of bullets, but he’s holding out hope.

 

“If you move I’ll shoot him!” Klaus reiterates, and it fills him with a little hope that the guy’s female companion from last time holds her hand up sharply. The agent behind her drops their gun slowly with an irritated expression.

 

“Listen,” She starts, voice icy. “You’re not one of them. I get it. If you get out now we’ll let you go. Just put the gun away and run, we won’t follow. We aren’t here for you.”

 

For a second, Klaus is tempted. It’s what he had been wanting to do just an hour ago, run and never look back despite how much the separation hurt him.he could get out of here right now, cut his losses and try and find a life elsewhere. But then he thinks of Allison lying out cold in the hall, of Diego, sleep-vulnerable and hair sticking up everywhere.

 

He can’t leave that.

 

“Open the briefcase,” Klaus tells her, just as frostily. “I’ll push him forward. Leave.”

 

“Cha-Cha, c’mon.” The man behind her complains. “He’s just one agent. Forget him, we have to find Five.”

 

The woman who must be called Cha-Cha gives this man a glare so deadly that Klaus begins to wonder if she won’t shoot the jerk for him. It would certainly make his work a lot easier. Maybe, Klaus thinks, time travelling, serial killing super-agents have friends too. Hazel breathes out a sigh of relief.

 

“Fine.” She spits. “But if you do this, you’re choosing a side. If you do this you’re our target too.”

 

Klaus nods, short and sharp. “They’re my team.” He explains, in the only way he knows how. He doesn’t need to pick a side.

 

The agent behind Cha-Cha creeps forward and hands her the briefcase, glaring murderously at Klaus. She unclasps it and looks up expectantly, warily, waiting for Klaus to fulfil his part of the bargain.

 

“We’ll get him, you know.” She says carefully. “Five. He upset the balance, and he won’t get away with it.”

 

Klaus rolls his eyes. “Count of three?” He asks, and Cha-Cha nods. From underneath him he hears the man clear his throat and shift a little uncomfortably.

 

“Unless you want to come with us,” He starts, and his voice is surprisingly kind for a super assassin. “You may want to get off my back. Uh, literally.”

 

Klaus blinks, realises the man is actually telling the truth and slides off, keeping his arm straight out so the gun is still aimed at the guy’s head. “Yep. I was just about to do that, asshole. Count of three. Ready?”

 

It sort of feels a little like a joke, really, as Cha-Cha, Klaus and the man he’s pointing the gun at all enunciate the numbers clearly; when they get to one Klaus shoves him as hard as he can. Cha-Cha rips open the briefcase and, in a blinding flash of white-blue light, they’re gone. Klaus slumps to the floor, exhausted.

 

“Woah.” Ben whispers, awed, from his position propped up against the doorframe. “Did that really just happen?”

 

Rather than answer him Klaus clambers to his feet again, heading for the hallway. Allison will still be out cold on the floor unless one of the others found her, and even if he does suspect her of stealing his lipgloss she still deserves to be taken care of. Ben follows him throughout the house, standing back as they reach her.

 

Klaus can hear a few confused exclamations throughout the house and he thinks, relieved, that Cha-Cha must have taken everyone back with her. Thank fuck. He doesn’t have time to ponder it though, because then everyone is rushing into the hallway from every direction and he doesn’t know who to address first.

 

“What the fuck?” It turns out that Luther makes that decision for him, by rushing forward and fixing Klaus with a horrified look. Klaus looks down in confusion and– oh. Right. Allison is laid out on the floor with a bloody nose, and Klaus is crouched down over her suspiciously with the knuckles of his right hand still bleeding from punching the glass. He stands on shaky legs and backs away with his hands up.

 

“I swear to god, I would never—” he starts, but Five steps forward and grabs him around the collar. It’s a little strange, being manhandled by a thirteen year old, but Klaus knows this thirteen year old could kill him so he keeps his face as neutral as possible.he catches sight of Diego in the background regarding him with a half broken, half furious expression. Klaus frowns.

 

“What did you do?” Five demands. Klaus pulls out of his grip and stumbles backwards, confused.

 

“I just— I went outside for a smoke.” He improvises, thinking that it’s not exactly a lie. “I heard the commotion but I was locked out, so I came back in via the basement. I used the key in the light.”

 

Five sneers, but it’s bittersweet, like he’s judging himself more than anyone else. “There’s only one key and only we know where it is. Did you tell him, Diego?”

 

Diego shakes his head, lips parted slightly and eyes wide and betrayed. Klaus seriously has no idea what the fuck is going on. When Klaus doesn’t say anything to defend himself, Five curses and steps back, drags a hand over his face.

 

“I knew it.” Luther starts, standing up from where he’d been curled protectively over Allison. “I told you. What did I say? I told you from the very start we couldn’t trust him. I said it was a bad idea.”

 

“Thank you, Luther.” Five hisses, sounding more than a little irritated. “I thought if it turned out to be true and we had one in the house with us maybe we could gather intel. I was wrong, I’m _sorry_.”

 

Klaus, who has a vague dawning sense of dread hanging over him, says very quietly, “What are you talking about?”

 

“Oh please,” Luther spits at him venomously. “You really believed we wouldn’t think it was even a _little_ bit suspicious? We’re being hunted by assassins and then magically you fall right into our lap, with your powers, and refuse to say anything about your past. You know, I really did think maybe I was being too harsh on you. Maybe you genuinely are just some poor guy with powers and a shitty life. But then you kept sneaking out at night and never said where you were going, you let Hazel and Cha-Cha get away that first time they came, and now? They magically disappear a second time as soon as you show up, claiming you got in through a passage that only we know how to get in through. You may have fucked Diego stupid but _we_? Aren’t gonna be as easy to fool.”

 

Klaus is speechless. Things are starting to piece together like some horrible, fucked up jigsaw puzzle, and when he looks at Diego the man is already looking at him with a set jaw and pained, angry eyes. Things make sense now, he thinks, and it’s worse than before. Even Ben starts backing away slowly.

 

“You think,” Klaus says softly. “That I’m one of them. That I came to spy on you, and help the Commission.” It’s not a question, and he doesn’t even realise that he’s making it worse for himself until it’s too late.

 

Diego lets out one of the worst noises Klaus has ever heard: it’s not exactly a sob, nor is it a groan. It’s a sharp, cut off wail, like Klaus has never heard before. This time, it’s Vanya that speaks.

 

“How did you know they’re called the Commission?” She asks, very slowly, very carefully. Klaus freezes. Fuck.

 

And right about now would be a great time to tell everyone the truth: that he’s an addict. That he sneaks out to get high and kill himself little by little each time so that he can face the next day. That he can see the dead, and for as long as he’s been here he’s been conversing with their deceased brother. That he was going to leave when he heard the screaming, and that he got Hazel and Cha-Cha to leave to protect the rest of them. That Ben told him about the passage, and that’s how he got in.

 

That they’re his team, the only family he’s ever really had.

 

“Guys,” He says, voice shaking. “I can explain.”

 

And then he says nothing, for seconds that stretch into years.

 

“Grab him.” Five instructs. Luther starts forward, and this time there’s no Diego to jump in between them, no Diego whose straps he can hold onto for protection, because Diego is frozen in place a few feet away. Diego, who never let anyone but Klaus see his vulnerability. Diego, who thinks Klaus betrayed him.

 

“Wait,” Klaus tries again, backing away. His voice breaks, but he doesn’t care. “Wait, please. I’m not one of them, please, you have to believe me. I’ll tell you everything, Diego, please. I know I fucked up but just— just trust me. I know you never did before but if you just trust me now I promise everything will make sense. _Please_!”

 

But it’s no use, because Luther just keeps coming and eventually Diego turns away, eyes squeezing shut. Luther grabs Klaus’ upper arm and god, he’s so tired, he kind of wants to just let it happen. Whatever’s going to happen, whatever they’re going to do to him, he’s too exhausted to fight anymore.

 

“Downstairs,” Five is saying with a cautious side eye to Vanya. “We can put him in Vanya’s—”

 

“Wait,” Klaus hears, and his heart skips, but the voice is all wrong. It’s not Diego who spoke, it’s Vanya, pushing past Five and looking at him with imploring eyes. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

 

“How much more evidence do you want, V?” Five asks, and his voice is soft, needling. If it were any other time Klaus might mention is, but now is not the time and he’s about to get thrown in Vanya’s… something.

 

“Just— just… what if we’re wrong? I remember that place, guys, it’s horrible. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” And now Klaus is startling to feel like he ought to start fighting again. He has no clue where they’re planning on putting him but it doesn’t sound nice. He starts to wriggle in Luther’s grip, trying desperately to get away. Next to him, Ben is watching, speechless and afraid. He looks like how Klaus is trying not to let himself feel.

 

“Look at Alli.” Luther interrupts, voice cracking. Klaus feels bad for him, despite everything.

 

“Look at _Diego_.” Vanya hisses back, like she’s trying hard not to be obvious but it’s fairly difficult when the person you’re talking about is conscious and in the room with you. Except…

 

“Where is Diego?” It’s Klaus that says it, and surprisingly, everyone pays attention to it. Diego is gone, completely vanished from the hallway with no trace of him leaving. Klaus’ eyes well up with unshed tears and there’s a lump in his throat that aches. Diego left. Diego doesn’t care.

 

“Now.” Ben tells him urgently. At first Klaus doesn’t understand, but then he looks around. Everyone is distracted, looking for Diego, and even Luther’s grip on his wrist has gone slack. Ben steps closer. “Klaus. _Now_.”

 

Klaus falls. He drops to his knees and buckles, like Luther himself taught him to do in one of their training sessions. His wrist pops out of Luther’s hold with a twisting agony - and that’s just fucking fantastic: sprained ankle, broken wrist, is someone going to snap his neck next? No, don’t answer that - but he’s free. He’s no longer trapped, so he runs.

 

If he wasn’t so close to the door to begin with, if the others weren’t so distracted, he would never have made it. His powers are faltering and he’s weak and hurt, so by all rights he should not be able to make it. But, somehow, he does.

 

And then he’s outside. For the second time that night he’s hobbling across the grass with bare feet and an empty chest, breathing in fresh air and wondering how far he can get before he collapses. Not far, he figures. The others are faster and stronger and more powerful than him; they’ll be on him any second, dragging him back inside and into what is most likely Vanya’s prison cell or something, but at least he got free. At least he fought.

 

It takes all of two seconds for something heavy and solid to wrap around his neck and hold him still. He goes lax, not even bothering to protest. It’s over.

 

But then there’s a voice in his ear. A woman’s voice. Cha-Cha’s voice. It’s the last thing he hears before there’s a sharp pain in his neck and the edges of his vision start to blur and fade to darkness.

 

“I tried to warn you.” She says, menacingly. “You picked the wrong side.”

 

Klaus is beginning to wonder if he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I’m writing a [kliego high school au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18431486/chapters/43659812) if you wanna check it out! It would give me much happy <3
> 
> ALSO! HAZEL AND CHA-CHA WOULD DIE FOR EACH OTHER YOU CANT CHANGE MY MIND!


	10. Chapter 10

2016 - Aged 27:

 

Klaus is alone for two years before he speaks to anyone else again. Of course, he exchanges the occasional, ‘fuck you’ with some of his fellow homeless junkies, and has a very angry, confused conversation with a 7/11 assistant when Klaus is caught stealing and he threatens to call the cops on the assistant, but other than that he sticks to himself. For two years, the closest to human contact he ever gets is when he interacts with his dealer.

 

And then, in a back alley near the archway he has claimed as his own, behind the Umbrella Academy mansion, he meets a man.

 

Well, ‘meets’ is a term Klaus uses loosely, because the first thing he does when he sees him is yell for this stranger to get out of his bin. He knows he can’t exactly lay his claim to a trash bin, and that there are other hungry, homeless people out there who need rich people’s leftovers as much as he does, but this dude in particular doesn’t look homeless at all. He’s wearing an unwrinkled pair of jeans that aren’t tatty and washed out, and an honest to god _cardigan_.

 

No way is this guy living on the streets, ergo he should not have any rights to Klaus’ meal ticket.

 

“Hey! Get out of my bin!” Is probably not the best way Klaus could have introduced himself, but he’s high from the pot he smoked earlier and he’s got the munchies, and it looks like the Chinese restaurant across the street just chucked out some perfectly good spring rolls. Half eaten, maybe, but still perfectly good.

 

The man falters and his foot slips from where he’s been resting it on the wall for leverage. Klaus only just manages to keep him from falling onto his ass using willpower alone - and a little bit of his actual power - and when the guy turns around he’s a little bit red in the face.

 

“Oh, hey, no. I wasn’t…” He starts, and jerks his thumb over his shoulder at the bin embarrassedly. “Have at it. I was just, uh, looking for something I dropped in here earlier.”

 

Klaus shrugs, taking this explanation at face value, and swings his leg over the side of the bin until his feet can touch the bin bags at the bottom. He stumbles a little on the unsteady surface but eventually finds his balance enough to duck down and snag one of the lesser chewed looking spring rolls. When his head pops back up above the edge of the bin, the man is still there, watching him shrewdly.

 

Klaus props his elbows up on the edge and grins, chewing obnoxiously. “So what’s up, my friend? What are you looking for? Maybe I can… help you find it.”

 

He hasn’t been out hooking in a few months and he doubts he looks all that appealing standing in a bin with ratty hair and last night’s make up smeared all over his face, but this guy is kind of cute. In a dad sort of way. Klaus never had a dad.

 

The man blushes a little, laughing awkwardly and shaking his head. Oh well, Klaus tried. “I’m okay, thanks. Actually it was just… a box. Uh, gold around the edges? Have you seen it?”

 

Klaus looks around by his feet and kicks some of the empty packages away, but he’s not all that invested in finding it and he’s not going to get down on his hands and knees in the dirt for someone who’s not even going to pay him for it, so he shrugs.

 

“Sorry, man.” He says apologetically.

 

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” The man answers. “Must have been another bin. I’m Harold, by the way.”

 

“Klaus,” Klaus answers, holding his free hand out. Harold takes it hesitantly. “Enchanté.”

 

They stand in companionable silence for a few minutes: Klaus eating and watching Harold, Harold leaning up against the side of the bin watching the surroundings. It’s a fairly drab evening but it hasn’t started raining yet so maybe Klaus won’t have such an awful night tonight. In the distance a car horn blasts, and Harold sighs.

 

“What’s got you down, buddy?” Klaus inquires, content for the first time in a while. He’s satiating his hunger, the ghosts have disappeared in a haze of smoke and weed and this bin is actually kind of warm. If he closed the lid and tried to make it out before getting towed away to a skip in the morning he could probably sleep here tonight.

 

“Do you ever think about what they’re doing in there?” Harold asks distantly, pointing up at the mansion with a faraway look. Klaus follows the direction of his finger and swallows.

 

 _All_ _the_ _time_ , he doesn’t say. In truth, barely a day goes past when he doesn’t think about the kids in the academy and how different their lives are to Klaus’. He’s tried to tune it down a little recently, because pining never does anyone any good, but it can be difficult to try not to think about something when it’s the first thing you see when you wake up most days.

 

“Nah,” Klaus shrugs, spits out a bit of glass that must have gotten mixed up in the trash. “I heard they’re all gone by now, anyway. Not even Number One stuck around. People say he died.”

 

Harold shakes his head, oddly adamant for a man who supposedly doesn’t know them. “No, he’s not dead.” He says assuredly. “Gone, maybe. Not dead.”

 

Klaus narrows his eyes and watches the back of Harold’s head. “Right.” He says slowly.

 

“One day,” Harold tells him, turning around suddenly and enthusiastically so that Klaus almost slips on a wad of wet tissues - which, gross - and falls on his ass. Maybe he shouldn’t try and sleep in here after all. “One day I’m gonna get inside there. I’m going to at least meet them. I’ve always wanted to.”

 

It may just be Klaus’ imagination, but Harold seems almost crazed when he says this, eyes unfocused and even though he’s watching Klaus carefully it doesn’t feel as though he is. It almost feels, Klaus thinks after years of identifying this exact feeling, like Harold looking right through him. Creepy. An unbidden shiver runs down his spine despite this guy looking totally harmless.

 

“Sure, man.” Klaus smiles a little indulgently, reaching out to pat Harold on the shoulder. “Me too.”

 

 

2019 - Aged 30:

 

When Klaus wakes up, he’s tied to a chair. A memory surfaces in the back of his mind and fights for attention but he squashes it down, swallows back tears and the coppery taste of blood. They must have roughed him up whilst he was out cold, and a dull ache starts behind his temples. His whole body stings like a thousand tiny needle pricks all at once and, not quite worse than the sick, empty feeling in his chest where his heart should be but still pretty fucking awful, he’s sober. The high must have worn off whilst he was unconscious, and now he’s cold and shivery, strapped down and completely alone.

 

No one will be looking for him, he knows, because no one will even notice he’s gone. If they even followed him outside and weren’t just happy to be rid of him, they’ll think that he managed to levitate or get away or something equally untrue. Diego and everyone else will think he was spying on them the entire time, will think that nothing he said was true, and he won’t ever get the opportunity to tell them the truth.

 

He’s going to die here: in a cold, dark, dingy motel room surrounded by mould and cobwebs. This is so not how he wanted to kick it.

 

At least Hazel and Cha-Cha aren’t anywhere in sight, he figures, but then he realises that they could be behind him completely silent for all he knows. The thought makes him shiver and he tries to twist his neck this way and that to look over his shoulder, but it’s no use. There are long coils of rope wrapping around his wrists, ankles and chest. It isn’t like when Diego tied him up - when, even though it chafed his skin, it made him feel safe and cared for. Here, the rope cuts into him harshly, draws blood to the surface, makes him feel trapped and in danger. Out of control.

 

“Hey, hey, easy.” Ben appears seemingly from nowhere, but Klaus isn’t sure he would have noticed if he’d been right beside him this whole time. He crouches down in front of Klaus and smiles in what is probably supposed to be a soothing way. “They’re in the bathroom. You’ve been out for about half an hour— we’re in a motel not so far away from the academy. You think you can get out of those bindings?”

 

It’s a stupid question really, and a futile effort on Klaus’ behalf, but his powers are still flickering and he’s too weak to do anything but tug uselessly. There’s a hand shaped mark around his forearm from where Luther grabbed him still, and it makes him feel sick. Then again, that could just be the withdrawal.

 

“Fuck,” Klaus gasps, lets his head fall back over the edge of the chair. “Ben, I really fucked this up. I told you I would, didn’t I? And now look where I am.”

 

Ben looks balefully at where he’s tied down, unable to move, and the worst thing about it all, Klaus thinks, is that even Ben can’t think of an answer to that. The closest he can get is another inspirational speech which, whilst heart warming, doesn’t particularly help him in this situation.

 

“You’re smart, Klaus,” He says encouragingly. “Just… distract them. If you can keep them busy for a while, keep them talking, then maybe you can stall until your powers come back. They’ve got to come back soon, right? They wouldn’t just… disappear.”

 

Klaus just shrugs. He really has no clue— his powers have waned before but usually only for a few days, and usually after a particularly bad high. He’s sober now - or well on the way to it at least - and he still feels powerless, like all the energy that they give him has drained out completely, and he’s been left empty. An empty shell.

 

Or maybe he’s always been an empty shell, and he’s only now realising it.

 

“I don’t know, Ben.” Klaus sighs. “I don’t—”

 

“Will you shut up?” Cha-Cha spits suddenly, thundering out of the bathroom with a murderous expression, Hazel hot on her heels. “Christ, do you ever stop talking? We couldn’t get you to shut up when you were unconscious.”

 

Klaus looks between Hazel and Cha-Cha with raised eyebrows. He’s sure his face must be deathly pale and his skin feels clammy with cold sweat, but he’s nothing if not persistent and he isn’t going to let these assholes take his freedom, his dignity _and_ his right to shit-talk. No way. Maybe if he annoys them enough they’ll let him go just like that.

 

“Well, hello again you two.” Klaus smiles, though he’s losing feeling in his face so it must look crazy and manic. “Funny seeing you guys here. Tell me, is this your grand plan?” Hazel glances at Cha-Cha: it’s only quick, a brief glimpse of uncertainty, but it’s enough for Klaus to latch onto and exploit mercilessly. “It _is_ , isn’t it! Oh you poor, misguided serial killers. You know this will never work, right?”

 

Cha-Cha grinds her heel down onto Klaus’ bare foot. She’s wearing a fairly heavy pair of combat boots that are probably excellent for situations exactly like this, and Klaus can feel the skin breaking, can almost feel blood bubbling to the surface. He’s certain that she’s re-broken a few of his toes, as well, and it aches like a bitch. Klaus grits his teeth and hisses through the pain despite himself, not wanting to give them any satisfaction but unable to help it. If it were anyone else here, Klaus thinks, if it were any of the others, they’d be out of here by now. They’d have found a way to escape and would most likely be half way back to the academy already.

 

But Klaus isn’t any of the others, and he hasn’t found a way to escape.

 

“You guys,” he gasps through the shocks of pain. “Really managed to kidnap the one person no one will notice is missing. I couldn’t have _planned_ this better, really! Congratulations, you’ve officially helped no one.”

 

Cha-Cha sneers and nods jerkily at Hazel, who draws his fist back. Klaus knows what to expect before Hazel even hits him, but the punch still takes him off guard. Blood spills from his nose and over his mouth, and he’s definitely going to have an impressive looking shiner by tomorrow.

 

“What makes you think,” Cha-Cha smirks, dragging sharp nails across Klaus’ cheek and leaving stinging, red lines. “That they haven’t noticed you’re gone?”

 

Something about the way she says this - mocking, condescending but with a hint of genuine amusement - makes Klaus sit up straighter in his chair and start paying more attention. His heart begins to beat a little faster, because that wasn’t the sort of thing she’d say for the hell of it. She knows something, Klaus realises, and the thought sets him on edge.

 

“What?” He asks quietly, bracing himself for another punch. It’s more of a slap this time, with the flat of Hazel’s hand, but it still sends him reeling and knocks the wind out of him for a few seconds. When his brain comes back online Ben is sitting on the edge of the bed beside him, knee bouncing up and down.

 

“We did say you’d picked the wrong side,” Cha-Cha explains, inspecting her nails. It turns Klaus’ stomach that they now glisten with the slightest hint of his blood. “But it was never really you we were after. We want Five. After that, we can go back.”

 

 _Back_ _where_? Klaus doesn’t ask, even though he quite likes the idea being able to retreat to an unknown location whenever he wants, away from the chaos and stress of the real world. Ben still isn’t speaking, and Klaus would ask him to clarify what they’re saying but he doesn’t want them to know his power any more than he wanted Diego to.

 

“So, what?” Klaus muses, licking some of the blood away from his mouth. Jeez, he hopes they didn’t knock a tooth loose— if he gets out of here alive he doubts a dentist in the country will want to deal with him. “You sent him a message? Told him if he didn’t come you’d kill me? Nice try, but they’re still not coming.”

 

“Oh? Why’s that?” Hazel speaks up for the first time since Klaus woke up, and it’s so surprising that Klaus startles.

 

“Jeez,” Klaus whispers dramatically to Cha-Cha, even though he doesn’t have a hand free to hide his mouth behind. “When did you let him off the lead?”

 

He gets an irritated kick to the shins for his wisecrack, and he’s sure that if Ben wasn’t so anxious right now he’d be rolling his eyes at Klaus’ expense.

 

“Because I _thought_ ,” Hazel ignores Klaus for the most part, though he does narrow his eyes at him. Klaus is beginning to feel a little unwelcome here. “You were getting fucked by one of those freaks. Number Two, right? I wouldn’t have pegged you as his type, but what do I know? You’re all fuck ups anyway, maybe you had that in common.”

 

Klaus stiffens. Jabs about himself, about his powers or his jokes or his weak attempts to escape Klaus can handle. But about Diego? Diego, who took care of Klaus and welcomed him in when no one else did. Diego, who is the best man Klaus has ever known. Diego, who thinks Klaus betrayed him, and is probably being blamed by the rest of the Academy right now for ever trying to help Klaus in the first place. That just isn’t fair.

 

He can’t have that.

 

“Shut the fuck up.” Klaus snaps irritatedly, eyes flashing. He knows it’s a mistake - Ben knows it as well, if the groan he lets out is any indication - but he can’t stop himself from trying to defend Diego. They know his weak spot now, and he doesn’t think they’re going to gloss over this new piece of information, even if he asks them nicely.

 

“What, you don’t want us talking about Diego? I’d have figured a little gold digger like you would go for Number One, but then he probably wouldn’t have wanted a coke-head like you anyway. Two seems more your style, always trying to beat his brother, right?” It’s Cha-Cha that speaks this time, words dripping with contempt, and she leans down close to where Klaus is tied up to spit in his face. He jerks back, more repulsed by her words than anything else.

 

“Ignore her, Klaus.” Ben speaks from behind him, tone harsh. He’s pissed, Klaus can tell, but who wouldn’t be after hearing some time travelling assassin, who kidnapped your best friend and has been trying to kill your family for months, trash talking your brothers.

 

“I’m _trying_.” Klaus grits out, and Cha-Cha slaps him once again for good measure.

 

“You really don’t think they’re coming for you, Klaus?” Cha-Cha snorts. “That’s cute. I’d recommend you invest in some therapy, but you probably won’t live long enough for that.”

 

“C’mon,” Hazel sneers in Klaus’ direction, but is clearly talking to his partner. “I’m hungry. Let’s go get _donuts_.” He spits the last word in Klaus’ face, and if Klaus wasn’t shaking with rage he’d probably laugh. Ben furrows his eyebrows in confusion at this strange new brand of torture.

 

They drag the chair that Klaus is strapped to into the tiny closet space that this shitty motel provides; this is the first time Klaus actually starts to panic, because the enclosed space and his sudden difficulty breathing takes him right back to when he was a ten year old, and Stefan would lock him in the basement for hours on end for ‘misbehaving’. The only thing keeping him from having a full blown panic attack is Ben’s presence next to him, sitting cross legged by his feet.

 

“Breathe, Klaus, just breathe.” He urges, whispering even though no one else is able to hear him. “I’m right here, you’re not alone. They’re gone, you’re okay.”

 

Klaus wheezes, sucking air in despite his chest feeling impossibly tight. “Ben,” He sobs. “What do I do?”

 

Ben winces and runs a hand through his hair. “Look, your powers are failing right now and it obviously isn’t the drugs. You aren’t high now and they still aren’t working, so… listen. Don’t shoot me for saying this, but do you think it’s possible this is more of a psychological problem?”

 

Klaus scoffs, anxiety creeping up his throat at the suggestion. Thanks, Cha-Cha, but he’ll pass on the therapy. Apparently Ben didn’t get that memo.

 

“My powers aren’t in my imagination, Ben,” he answers, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. “This isn’t like— like _stress_ or something. My powers are in my blood. That’s what Five said.”

 

Ben raises an eyebrow, and okay, Klaus has to admit that isn’t the best defence. “I think we both know that Five isn’t always right.”

 

Klaus, whilst he hates to admit to having any weaknesses to Ben - who Klaus is sure sees him as a God - is strapped to a chair in the closet of a shitty motel where he’s being held hostage by two time travelling, dimension hopping serial killers. He’s got time to discuss a few alternatives.

 

“Okay,” he finally groans, rolling his neck until his joints click. “I’ll bite. Say it’s psychological, surely that would be even harder to fix. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see a trained psychologist in this room, so… I’m sort of stuck here, Benny.”

 

“Don’t call me that.” Ben says instinctively. “And not necessarily. If you can get to the crux of your problem then maybe you can actually start accessing your powers again. Like… knocking down a wall!”

 

Klaus peers through the darkness, struggling to make out Ben’s expression: excited and a little hopeful. “I guess I was wrong.” Klaus hums. Ben frowns. “You’re the trained psychologist, Benny! Why didn’t you say something, we could have been out of here in no time.”

 

“Jesus, Klaus!” Ben cries, slamming his hands down over Klaus’ knees. They pass through him and send a cold, clammy feeling through his body; both Klaus and Ben sigh in frustration. “Take this seriously, please! You heard what she said— the others are gonna come here, and it’s going to be a trap.”

 

Klaus swallows, because this is the thing. He wants Diego to come for him - he wants Diego to come for him like he wanted to keep Diego when they first got together, desperate and all consumed with the knowledge that somehow he was going to mess it up - because right now he feels empty. He feels shattered and void of any emotion, because lacking emotion is better than the sharp, stinging loneliness Klaus knows he’d feel otherwise.

 

But also, he doesn’t want Diego to come for him, and not just because it would be a trap. Not just because Diego could get seriously hurt if he did show up and not even wholly because Klaus feels weak and powerless enough as it is, and having someone have to show up to save the day like he’s some fucking damsel in distress would be kind of embarrassing.

 

No, he doesn’t want Diego to show up because he’s the tiniest, _tiniest_ bit angry with him. It’s irrational, really, because it’s the others he should be angry with and besides, he’s fairly sure the majority of his anger is actually hurt in disguise. All the same, he can’t get the image of Diego turning away - turn away, turn back, Diego’s gone - out of his head or his heart.

 

“Diego isn’t coming.” Klaus says with finality. Ben snorts.

 

“Right, sure.” He nods sarcastically. “So, what do you see happening? You disappear into thin air, then Five gets some kind of message from the Commission saying that they’ve kidnapped the person they thought _was_ part of the Commission - that’s you, by the way - and are holding him hostage. You still think they’re just gonna shrug it off and think you’re some sort of wonder spy? C’mon, Klaus, really?”

 

“Leave me alone!” Klaus cries, trying to bounce his knee up and down but unable to so much as twitch thanks to the tight straps around his ankles. He feels panic rising in him again like a tidal wave, comprehension dawning at Ben’s admittedly wise counsel. Fuck, he needs to get out of here. He can barely breathe, it feels like the walls are closing in on him and the amount of free space he has is shrinking—

 

“—are you _sure_?” Hazel’s voice sounds, two pairs of footsteps bustling in and the motel door swinging shut with a click behind them. Klaus tenses and exchanges a nervous glance with Ben, who straightens up immediately.

 

“ _Yes_ , I’m sure. Get him out of there now, we have to hurry. They’ll be in here any second.” Cha-Cha replies, obviously irritated with the other man. The door rattles and Klaus holds his breath - big mistake when it feels like you can barely breathe in the first place - until the door is being yanked open and daylight streams in. It’s such a relief that Klaus can’t even make a ‘coming out of the closet’ joke like he’d been planning. All he can do is sob half heartedly and squeeze his eyes shut, drinking in the warmth of the sun on his skin even through the closed curtains.

 

“It’s show time, baby.” Hazel grins at him, producing an old, gross looking sock from Klaus doesn’t even want to know where. “Open up.”

 

Klaus jerks his face away, the feeling of helplessness returning full force. “What the fuck?” He hisses through his teeth, wary of opening his mouth lest Hazel take the opportunity to literally gag him. Cha-Cha steps away from the window with a disgusted noise and grabs him around the throat, dried blood flaking away under her grip.

 

“Listen, you freak.” She hisses, saliva flying into his face. “Your ex lover, and the other freaks you said wouldn’t show up to save your scrawny, junkie ass? They’re right outside, they’re probably about to come bursting in any second actually, and we can’t have you screaming your head off and letting them know it’s an ambush. Alright? So open up and shut up. I’d have thought you’d be good at that by now.”

 

Klaus swallows, grits his teeth and spits in her face before Hazel cuffs him harshly round the back of the head. He tangles his fingers in Klaus’ hair and pulls his head back with a stinging pain so that his mouth falls open in a weak cry. Cha-Cha shoves the socks in between his teeth - which, also gross - and seals his mouth with duct tape until he can only scream into the makeshift gag. Nobody will be able to hear him like this; the academy are strong but Hazel and Cha-Cha will be waiting on the other side of that door with guns ready as soon as it bursts open. Luther might be okay, but the rest of them wouldn’t stand a chance against an onslaught of bullets.

 

He’s overreacting, Klaus thinks to himself, he must be. How can this be an ambush if Cha-Cha told them where he’d be? They must know the assassins will be waiting for them, and so they’ll come prepared. Klaus doesn’t need to worry so much.

 

But then, what if Diego _has_ come unprepared? What if he’s the only one that actually gave a shit, and he saw red let his anger drive him here? What if he opens the door and completely forget to take a calm, rational approach, and gets shot down in the process? That would be Klaus’ fault, as if he hasn’t done enough already.

 

Klaus wails into the gag, rocking back and forth on the chair desperately. The bindings are so tight around him and there’s a scream building up inside his chest that he can’t get out because of this stupid fucking gag. He feels powerless and helpless and angry and afraid and all the things that usually set off his powers, so why the fuck aren’t they working now?

 

Get to the crux of the problem, Ben had said, and as much as Klaus had mocked him it doesn’t look like there’s much time to try anything else now. The crux of Klaus’ problem? Fear, he thinks. Fear that he’s not good enough, that he doesn’t deserve the life he’s always wanted. That he doesn’t fit with the Umbrella Academy or Diego, and that he never will. Fear that his mother knew what kind of a fuck up he’d become, and that’s why she didn’t want him. Fear of the ghosts that haunt him every waking moment - fear of what he’ll lose if he helps them and what he’ll gain if he doesn’t - and fear of the things he has to do to make them go away.

 

There are footsteps right outside the door now, and Klaus screams again, but it’s useless. He can see Ben out of the corner of his eye pacing - can see his mouth moving and can hear his hopeless yelling as well like he’s underwater - but he can’t focus on that right now. Time moves slowly. Hazel and Cha-Cha cock their guns, Ben kicks the side of the bed and— and it makes contact.

 

 _It_ _makes_ _contact_.

 

It’s fear driving him, Klaus thinks, of all of those things. But mostly it’s fear for Diego. Fear of losing the one person he let himself trust, through faults of his own or anybody else’s. Fear of Diego turning away from him with betrayal in his eyes.

 

Because—

 

“Klaus!” Ben screams. The curtains flap in an unexplainable wind. The doorknob rattles and then slowly, slowly begins to turn.

 

Because—

 

Because Klaus loves him.

 

Many things happen at once: first of all, Klaus bursts into heaving sobs around the disgusting sock-gag he’s being choked on. The door flies open at the same time that Hazel and Cha-Cha fly backwards, crashing into the wall behind Klaus, and it feels like a huge bubble or air is being pushed from Klaus’ body. It’s unstoppable and exhausting but relieving at the same time. It feels like a return to something familiar. The light bulb swings dangerously above Klaus’ head, and all the windows in the room shatter simultaneously.

 

“ _Klaus_?” Diego gapes from where he’s standing, the first in the formation of five, just inside the door. His face flushes red with rage for a few brief moments when he takes in the sight of Klaus, tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth and blood all over his face, even matted into his hair, when suddenly his gaze fixated on something just over Klaus’ shoulder and his expression goes slack. The others are already watching whatever spectacle this is, with varying degrees of disbelief on their faces.

 

Then, very clearly enunciated, Vanya says, “What the fuck?”

 

Klaus looks over to see Ben, glowing blue and very much corporeal, with his t-shit lifted and eight impressive looking tentacles that Klaus has only ever seen on YouTube just beginning to unfurl. He staggers a little, probably unused to releasing his power after so many years without it, but then he turns an evil glare on Hazel and Cha-Cha where they’re only just beginning to stagger upright again.

 

Klaus’ wrists are glowing blue as well, and the ropes around him start to sizzle and melt away. The legs of the chair snap and the tips of his toes start to tingle; he can feel himself floating, feel the airy, freeing sensation of being carried by a wind he controls.

 

Ben’s tentacles cut through the air quickly, wrapping around their waists before either of them can even reach for their guns. In one hand, Hazel is still gripping the handles to the briefcase and he stretches out in vain for Cha-Cha. Their fingers brush once, twice, before they latch onto each other.

 

Ben is squeezing them around the waist so tightly that it really does seem like their eyes are about to fucking pop out. Klaus knows they’re going to get away - knows it even before he sees them grab each other’s hands and Hazel flick open the locks to the briefcase with impressive speed - because Ben has never been a killer by choice. When threatened, he’ll protect his family, but that doesn’t extend to murder in his eyes and Klaus respects him for it.

 

Hazel and Cha-Cha disappear with joint screams - what could be pain or frustration, Klaus can’t really tell - and Ben’s tentacles slither back to their rightful place. He flickers in and out of focus, exhaustion draining both him and Klaus. When Ben turns to the others they’re watching him with a look Klaus can’t decipher: disbelief, certainly, and confusion. Affection as well, though, for their long lost brother.

 

“Guys—” Ben starts, and promptly vanishes. Klaus, whose levitation has brought him almost to the ceiling now, goes taut all over. His head lolls and his eyes roll back in his head. The last thing he remembers is falling suddenly, the ground rushing up to meet him, and then he’s landing against something soft and solid and warm all at the same time.

 

Someone brushes bloody, sweaty hair out of his eyes and strokes fingers along the side of his face. “Klaus,” Diego breathes, and then he remembers nothing.


	11. Chapter 11

2018 - Aged 29:

 

Klaus spends the night in jail. He actively tried not to think of it as jail, really, because the police officer ‘on the scene’ decided not to charge him with anything, but he’s in a barred cell with a couple of other homeless alcoholics and he feels very out of place. It reeks of piss and vomit and booze - by all rights Klaus just feel perfectly at home - but he’s wearing a knee length skirt and a feather boa, so he’s not exactly lapping up positive attention in here.

 

He got picked up for disorderly conduct or public indecency or something equally fucking stupid - it’s lucky whoever called 911 didn’t see him get paid for sucking the guy’s dick in public, or he’d have been put away on solicitation charges - but when he demands the right to a phone call the cops around just snicker and shake their heads. He’s not sure why he bothers really because he wouldn’t have anyone to call anyway, but it’s the principle of the thing that matters.

 

“Give it up, kid.” Klaus hears from behind him. He turns to find a man with a plaster cast around his arm and a black eye, leaning against the wall and watching him with lidded eyes. “You got no rights in here.”

 

“Well aren’t you a beacon of sunshine.” Klaus rolls his eyes and turns around again, leaning his forehead against the bars of the cell. The guy is probably right to be honest, but Klaus really didn’t need to hear it.

 

“What does it matter to you anyway?” The man continues, sounding pissed off. “They’re letting you out tomorrow. At least you aren’t getting transferred to an actual cell. They’d eat you up in big boy jail, kid.”

 

Klaus kicks away from the door with a frustrated groan and sits cross legged in the middle of the floor. He hears one of the police officers behind him scoff so he turns his back on them, choosing instead to actually pay attention to asshole in the cell with him.

 

“What did you do to get transferred?” He asks, only mildly interested, but the guy straightens up like he’s excited to talk about it. Yikes, psycho alert.

 

“Breaking and entering. I had it all planned out, right, and everything was going perfectly. Had the family all tied up and everything. I could have easily made it out of there with enough stuff to get me off the streets for a year.”

 

Klaus whistles as though he’s impressed, slowly inching away from the man and towards the door. The least these cops could have done for him is made sure he didn’t get put in the same cage as someone who kind of looks like a serial killer in hiding.

 

“And then, just as I was about to leave, this fucking… _kid_ swoops in. All dressed up in spandex, can you fucking believe it, with a mask on and everything. Broke my fucking arm and kindly dropped me off here.”

 

Klaus frowns. That description sounds oddly familiar, but that doesn’t make any sense. The Umbrella Academy broke up years ago, so who is running around fighting crime in an imitation of them?

 

“I swear to God, man. Those fucking kids always were trouble. When I get out I’m gonna show those rich kids exactly what the real world is like. I heard that house is stacked with good shit, man. You get enough of that stuff and it would put you off the streets for good.”

 

The guy trails off, muttering angrily to himself after that, so Klaus edges away a little faster, but he keeps thinking about what he had said.

 

“Hey, Patch,” one of the cops calls, and Klaus registers it only distantly. “We’ve got your friend out back. You want us to throw him in the cell for tonight, teach him a lesson?”

 

A woman groans in response, and Klaus recognises the woman that made the call to put him in here for tonight rather than actually charging him with anything. He has a feeling that, more than anything, she just wanted to give him a place to sleep.

 

“No, don’t bother.” She answers, heading for the door. “I’ll go talk to him.”

 

Klaus forgets about this almost immediately, classifying it as unimportant in comparison, but he doesn’t forget about his conversation with the potential serial killer. Enough to put him off the streets for good?

 

Interesting.

 

 2019 - Aged 30:

 

Klaus has the honour of meeting Grace Hargreeves. Up until now he’s never so much as seen her around the house - and fair enough, he’s stuck to Diego’s bedroom, the training hall and the kitchen for the majority of his time here - but he’d been beginning to think Diego had been making her up.

 

It’s a little unceremonious, their first meeting, but he’s sure she doesn’t mind. He wakes up in the middle of her taping his toes together, and when he realises his wrists and arms are tied to the bed he’s lying on he screeches and does his best to kick the unfamiliar woman away. It’s only when he recognises the infirmary at The Academy does he pause for a second, trying to recollect his memories of the past twenty four hours.

 

It’s all very white washed, the med-bay, and Klaus can’t imagine it must have been a very nice environment to grow up in. He’s sure the kids were in here quite a lot, and he’s sure this very woman must have patched them up most times. As it is, she leans over Klaus and smiles a little vacantly, stroking sweaty hair back from his forehead.

 

“Easy, Klaus.” She singsongs, smiling down at him. He cowers, because even though he knows distantly that this is indeed Grace Hargreeves and she is not an enemy, he still acknowledges that she is in fact a robot and could kill him at a moment’s notice. “You’ve been asleep for a long time, sweetie, take things slowly.”

 

Klaus blinks, swallowing and wincing at how dry his throat feels. Grace tucks a loose strand of hair back into its immaculate position and, like she can hear what he’s thinking, holds a tall, cool glass of water up to his lips. Klaus whines and tugs a little at the bindings around his wrists, but Grace just stares at him expectantly until he relents and lets her tilt the glass.

 

When he’s finished drinking he leans back and exhales unsteadily, blinking up at Grace with owlish eyes. She’s wonderful, he thinks, with her warm smile and her need to help anyone who needs it. He remembers Diego’s story, thinks about how hard it must have been to have someone who is supposed to love you create something to do it for them, and then to have them reprogram herfor doing so. To be told by the first parent figure you have that you are unloveable, and then for him to reinforce that by taking away any opportunity at being a family you ever had.

 

It turns Klaus’ stomach, and then his stomach turns for real and Grace only just has time to present him with a bucket out of thin air before he’s throwing up. She pets his hair as he retches up, water and bile the only things in his stomach, and it reminds him a little of his three week boyfriend holding back his hair as he forced himself through withdrawals that first time. It hadn’t stuck, of course, and he had moved out eventually, but it had been nice of the man to try. Maybe Klaus should seek him out, send him a fruit basket or something.

 

“There you go, sweetheart.” Grace smiles when he’s finished, taking the bucket away and wiping something gross from his chin with the corner of a handkerchief. “All better?”

 

“Yeah, thank you.” He croaks, nodding as much as he can whilst he’s strapped to a bed. “Um, could you—?”

 

Grace doesn’t even have to answer, just starts untying him immediately, and he’s hit with such a rush of adrenaline and relief all at the same time. Klaus knows what they saw in that motel - he remembers, even though he was stressed and scared and going through withdrawals - and he knows they aren’t just going to forget that because he passed out. They’re going to want answers, and it wouldn’t surprise him, after everything that’s happened, if they felt the need to tie him up to stop him from leaving before they get them.

 

But Grace’s fingers work quickly and effectively, and the clasps around his wrists are gone within a few seconds of him bringing it up. He draws his arms into himself, making a cross over his chest quickly and waits in silence as she works at the ties around his ankles. When she’s finished he slinks backwards until his back is against the wall, drawing his knees up to his chest and feeling about six years old with the way she cusses with his pillows.

 

“I’m so sorry about those pesky things, Klaus.” She busies herself plumping cushions and then, when there’s nothing else for her to do, checks Klaus’ forehead with the back of her hand. “Diego was very upset about them, but you couldn’t seem to stop levitating in your sleep and we didn’t want you to go through the ceiling, now, did we?”

 

She laughs, high pitched and airy, whilst Klaus frowns at this new information. That’s never happened before as far as he’s aware and the knowledge that his powers seem to be evolving still is kind of worrying, but mostly he’s just relieved that he wasn’t tied up for any other nefarious reason. To stop him floating off into space, that seems like a valid reason to strap him down, and it does make his stomach flutter to know that Diego was against it.

 

He’s about to ask after Diego, but Grace starts bustling about before he can, speaking as she does.

 

“Now, a few things, dear.” She says, fiddling with a machine next to his bed. Klaus has been in enough hospitals in his time to recognise it as an IV drip; she must have taken it out just before he woke up. After his history, he didn’t even notice the sting in the crook of his arm.

 

“I should imagine your withdrawal symptoms are mostly over now, thankfully you were unconscious for most of them.” Grace informs him, and Klaus startles. He does feel a lot more clearheaded now that he really thinks about it, and his body is burning with pain from his injuries all over in place of the numbness the drugs provided, but how could he have almost finished withdrawal in less than twenty four hours?

 

“But you’re still very weak. If you hadn’t woken up today I would have had to get you on a feeding tube, so I think it would be better if you stayed here for now. At least for a few days, just to be safe. We’ll have to ease you into solid food slowly if water makes you feel so sick so I’ll start making some soup, but there’s no rush. Everyone just wants you to get better, sweetie.”

 

“Wait, wait, slow down.” Klaus groans, rubbing his temples. Now that he’s been awake for long enough, the clearheadedness is turning into a throbbing headache and he’s kill for a morphine drip instead. Grace places a hand on his shoulder and rubs it sympathetically, and Klaus isn’t at all embarrassed to admit that it does calm him down a bit, make the ache at his temples ebb a little. Having a mom would have been awesome, Klaus decides. Even a robot mom.

 

“How could I have gone through withdrawals in, like, ten hours? And why would you need to put me on a feeding tube? No offence, but I’ve gone longer without—” Klaus trails off when he sees Grace’s expression: melancholy, but only vaguely. Like she knows she’s feeling sad with the distinct knowledge of how she _shouldn’t_ be feeling sad. Klaus’ heart aches for her.

 

“Oh, baby.” She says, voice oddly caring for someone who was programmed not to show emotion. “You’ve been asleep for almost seventy two hours.”

 

Klaus inhales sharply. The last thing he remembers is falling into Diego’s arms, and now he’s finding out that that was actually three days ago? Klaus hasn’t lost time like this since the last time he mixed his pills, and when he woke up two days later naked in Central Park with no memory of what had happened in the time in between he swore he would never do that again.

 

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” Grace hums soothingly, and he lets his head fall against her arm lethargically. “But take your time. You need to get your strength up again, then you can start seeing your visitors. And Klaus, you have had a _lot_ of visitors!”

 

Klaus bets he has.

 

***

 

Klaus’ powers get stronger than ever before, and he’s not entirely sure how or why it’s happening. It starts slowly - he’ll wake up to find himself hovering a whole foot above the bed he’s supposed to be sleeping in only to immediately crash down onto the mattress again - but it slowly develops.

 

One day Klaus is feeling even more like shit than usual, itching for a high, and all he wants is a glass of water. Except, Grace isn’t there and his glass is all the way on the other side of the room. He absolutely does not have enough strength to get out of bed and collect it, so in his panic he just holds his hand out towards it and groans in frustration.

 

The next thing he knows, the glass is hurtling towards his head at a breakneck speed; he only just has enough time to duck out of the way before the glass hits the wall behind his head and shatters. Glass and water rain down over his pillow and the commotion brings Grace running in worriedly. She sees the mess and tuts, hurrying to clean it up, but doesn’t seem to be able to acknowledge what it actually means.

 

To be fair, Klaus isn’t entirely sure what it means either, but he knows his powers are getting stronger and if they carry on like this they’ll be out of his control. Like all of Klaus’ worries, he pushes it to the back of his mind and resolves to forget about it until it gets too worrying to ignore. Infallible system.

 

By day three he’s bored out of his fucking mind. There’s a TV opposite his bed - it looks flashy and new. Recently installed, because it’s certainly not the kind of thing he imagines Reginald Hargreeves would have allowed - but he can only spend so long flicking through daytime telemarketing channels before it starts to feel like his brain is melting out of his ears, so Grace finally opens the doors to the rest of the academy.

 

Diego comes to see him first. According to Grace he’s been waiting outside the infirmary under strict instructions not to interrupt Klaus’ healing period ever since they brought him in. Also according to Grace, he’s been sneaking in whenever she isn’t around and sitting by Klaus’ bed, holding their hands together, and murmuring unintelligible words in the hope that they would somehow get through to him.

 

Klaus doesn’t know how he feels about that. Or, okay, he does. It would be more accurate to say that he’s not sure he likes how he feels about it, because on the one hand he’s thrilled that Diego came to sit with him. It’s like his conundrum in the motel - the less serious one that didn’t involve torture. He wants Diego to care about him, and Diego sitting with him in the med-bay proves that he does, and that makes Klaus decidedly happy.

 

But on the other hand, Diego left him. Diego turned away, and didn’t try to defend him against the others. Rationally Klaus knows why - he’s not sure that can really blame Diego, and he doesn’t know what he would have done in that situation - but the sting of betrayal still hurts anyway, like a serrated edge against his skin. If Diego cared about him, why did he leave him?

 

Ever since Klaus’ self revelation in the motel he’s been a little wary about the prospect of being around Diego. He’s never loved anybody before, the closest he ever got was Dave, and the power it gives Diego is immense. Even greater than before, when Klaus willingly gave up control to him, because this is something Klaus can’t control. This could truly kill him, Klaus thinks. Diego could truly kill him without doing anything at all.

 

But he’s powerless against it, it would seem. As soon as Diego shows up outside the door of the infirmary, tapping on the glass and peering through with a hopeful expression, Klaus knows there’s no way he could ever deny him.

 

Diego is still hesitating outside the room so Klaus rolls his eyes, lifting his eyes and trying to beckon him to come in. Except he’s still figuring his way around his new strength, and instead of beckoning Diego in he accidentally rips the door off its hinges. He manages to stop it mid flight, thankfully, so it doesn’t actually knock him out and instead just clatters to the floor. Diego, to his credit, only looks a little shellshocked. He diplomatically steps over the broken remains of the door and doesn’t mention it.

 

Klaus watches silently as Diego takes a seat next to the bed and looks anywhere but at Klaus; he clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair and picks imaginary lint off his hoodie. When it gets too painfully awkward for Klaus to bear he decides to kickstart the conversation himself.

 

“Grace told you about the, uh, power surge then?” He prompts. Diego nods distractedly, still not looking up. Klaus resists the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“Um, yeah.” He coughs a little and rubs the back of his hand under his nose. Klaus frowns. “She tends to talk about you a lot. I think she’s mad we didn’t introduce you to her sooner.”

 

Klaus tries not to entertain the thought that they didn’t introduce them because they didn’t trust him. “Thanks for… protesting the straps, I guess.” He laughs a little uncomfortably, because how does he even act in this situation?

 

Diego, who up until now has been keeping his hands neatly folded in his lap, curls his fingers around the sides of the chair and squeezes until his knuckles turn white. “It was the least I could do.” He grunts out, voice rough and scratchy.

 

“Diego…” Klaus starts, but he’s cut off when Diego looks up at him for the first time. The sight takes his breath away; Diego, who always looks so controlled and well out together, has tears brimming at big, brown eyes and just beginning to spill over his cheeks. Klaus lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, and Diego lets out a noise that’s halfway between a sneeze and a hiccup.

 

It’s both tragic and adorable. Tragically adorable. That’s usually Klaus’ gig.

 

“I’m s– _sorry_ , Klaus.” Diego cries, voice breaking. “I never wanted you to get hurt. God, I’m so sorry.”

 

Klaus blinks and swallows. He wasn’t exactly expecting this, no matter how many times he had envisaged this scenario; he had thought Diego would maybe offer a stilted apology and then ask questions, but never in a thousand years would he have thought Diego would break down like this. He looks wrecked, and not in the sexy way. In the kind of way that tears burning behind Klaus’ eyes, and has him swallowing through the lump in his throat.

 

“Hey,” Klaus reaches out but pulls his hand away at the last moment, words stilted and a little awkward. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

 

“I should have said something. I should have— should have told them that you would never do that. I just let them take you like it didn’t matter, _fuck_ , I’m so sorry. And then you w– were gone, and I didn’t know where you were and I couldn’t find you anywhere and you didn’t have a phone so I couldn’t call you. Why did I never buy you a phone? As soon as you get out of here I’m going to buy you a phone, okay?”

 

“Diego—”

 

“Any type you want, it doesn’t matter. I’ll—”

 

“ _Diego_.” Klaus says again. Diego stops short in the middle of his sentence, and looks at Klaus with such a broken expression Klaus feels tears gathering in his own eyes, feels them roll down his cheeks. Diego seems to get even more upset at this, and he reaches out to brush them away. Klaus stays still, and let’s him.

 

“Hey, no, don’t cry. You don’t have to cry. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking bad at this, I didn’t mean to upset you. I should go— here, I’ll go.” He stands to leave and Klaus reacts without thinking, grabbing his hand and digging his nails into the skin to stop him. Diego freezes, features shifting. He looks so vulnerable, so hopeful that Klaus wants him there.

 

“I just want to know,” Klaus says slowly, carefully. “How you looked at me and thought: trained assassin right there.” There’s a beat of silence and then they’re both cracking up, laughing and sobbing at the same time so that eventually neither of them can tell which is which. They’re still clutching each other’s hands and even though it was Klaus that made the first move he’s not sure who needs to comfort more, because Diego is clinging onto him with equal vigour.

 

“Diego, I should—”

 

“You don’t need to explain anything.” Diego says quickly, then flushes under Klaus’ doubtful glare. “I mean, not if you don’t want to. There are some things I’d, um, quite like to know. Like… Ben? But you’ve been unconscious for three days and you’ve been through…” his features harden and his hand squeezes Klaus’ a little too tight before he catches himself and relaxes “You’ve been through a lot. Because of me. You don’t owe us anything, Klaus. Okay?”

 

Klaus nods slowly. Personally he disagrees - and he genuinely does want to explain everything to Diego - but he just doesn’t think he has the strength to do it now. Every time he opens his mouth to speak it feels like a little bit more of his strength abandons him and he desperately wants to just drift away to sleep, which makes no sense because he just spent three days asleep.

 

Diego seems to sense this because he smiles softly and strokes the back of Klaus’ hand, just once, before standing up reluctantly.

 

“You should get some rest.” He suggests. “I’ll come back later tonight to see how you’re doing. Only if you want, that is.”

 

Klaus nods, somehow shy despite everything that’s happened. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

 

Diego’s face breaks into a smile so bright that Klaus can’t help but grin back. “If there’s anything you want from your room or anything, just let me know. I could bring you clothes, or books if you want? I think I’ve got a Walkman stored away somewhere—”

 

“Actually, there is something I’d kind of like.” Klaus admits, thinking fast. “Do you have a laptop?”

 

***

 

Klaus writes a letter. It’s the only way he can get everything down out of his head and in one place, in the right order without missing anything out. If he tried to explain verbally it would be messy and confusing and he’d probably leave out a bunch of important bits, so he takes the laptop that Diego brings him and types everything out.

 

It takes three hours to get everything down, and by the time he’s finished he’s cried so many times that Grace has to bring him another glass of water to keep him hydrated. It’s not addressed to anyone in particular and it’s intended for all of them, but Klaus writes it for Diego.

 

 _I moved to America when I was fifteen or sixteen._ He writes, and then everything is just pouring out of him, his whole entire sorry life up until now. _I won’t go into my life before then, because it’s not a very pleasant story. Maybe another time, but for now I’ll just catch you up to speed._

 

_I lied to you. I’m sorry to start it out like this, but it’s better if I just get it over with at the start so you have more time to get used to it. I lied to you, because I suppose a lie of omission is still a lie. I can see dead people. That’s very Sixth Sense of me, I know, but it’s true, and the majority of the time it’s horrible. Imagine your favourite horror movie, imagine one of the grisly deaths in it. It’s still gross, right? Because even though you know it’s special effects and none of it is actually real it still looks real._

_Now imagine that it is real, and it’s following you around everywhere you go, screaming at you all the time to help. I grew up with this, but you can never really get used to it when there’s always someone new each day. I suppose an advantage of growing up with it is that the power grew with me. Before long I could make them corporeal, they could touch things. They could touch me. This isn’t always a good thing, mind, but it still showed I was getting powerful. Along with the telekinesis and the levitation, everything was growing stronger._

_But it was still hard. I did terrible things with my powers. I didn’t mean to but I still did, and I’ll never be able to get away from that fact no matter how hard I try. I know that now, but I didn’t back then, and back then I tried everything._

_The reason I don’t remember exactly how old I was when I came to live in America is because at the time I was too high to remember anything. That’s how I got them to go away; I found a way and I exploited it, and unfortunately for me that way was to get so fucked up that I could barely move._

_My powers got weaker the more I did this. The ghosts went away - most of them did anyway. Some of the nice ones stuck around, and I never figured out how they did that. I have my theories but is not like we can just ask Yahoo, so I guess we’ll never know for sure._

_But anyway. The ghosts went away, and they weren't corporeal anymore. I could only levitate with bare feet for some reason, and my telekinesis got weaker. I was okay with this because I wasn’t really using it anyway— living on the streets isn’t exactly the best way to utilise a power like seeing the dead. I did use my telekinesis though, for petty things like shoplifting. I know, sorry guys, but in my defence I was very hungry and the bins don’t always provide._

_So I was an addict, and homeless, and desperate and bitter because you all had what I always wanted. When you asked me to join I said yes, because it would give me somewhere to live of course but also because you seemed interested in me, and that had never happened before._

_I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. Ben wanted me to, but I just couldn’t. At first it was because of the whole training thing; I know you guys don’t exactly like me, and I’ve been locked in enough enclosed spaces with screaming ghosts to know I never want to do ‘training’ like that ever again. But then I spent longer with you all, and the longer you guys spent not knowing the more difficult it got to try and tell you. I just thought maybe you didn’t need to know, and I’m sorry for that. I really am. Maybe if I’d just told you, none of this would have happened._

_And then there were the drugs, which I couldn’t tell you about either. No matter how hard I tried to get sober it just never seemed to stick, and when I came to live with you I was still an addict. We were busy during the day - so busy ;) - so the only time I ever got an opportunity was at night._

_Again, I’m sorry. I should have told you, and I didn’t, and that’s on me._

_And then everything happened, and I got kidnapped, and you found out in the worst possible way. So this letter will hopefully explain things better than I could have done in person. I never meant to hurt you. Allison, I hope you’re alright! Also I do hope you still have my jacket because it was my favourite and I’m pretty sure it has my last twenty dollars in. Thanks!_

_Much love, Klaus._

Diego sits next to his bed as he reads it. By the time he’s finished there are fresh tear tracks on his face; Klaus chooses not to mention them. He just shuffles up a little on the bed and holds back the covers in an invitation. Diego takes it, and crawls onto the mattress himself, curling around Klaus’ body.

 

They don’t touch, per se. They just… _touch_. They’re both fully clothed, but Diego presses his body up against Klaus’ as close as they can get to one another and drapes an arm over his waist. One hand comes up to stroke Klaus’ hair and the other presses against his chest, palm flat over his heart, like he never wants to let Klaus go again. They stay like that for a long time, until Klaus is drifting in and out of consciousness and Diego’s tears have dried on his face.

 

Klaus has no idea whether Diego means for him to hear, or whether he thinks Klaus is asleep, but after a while he rests his forehead against Klaus’ neck and inhales. “Tell me how to make this better.” He whispers.

 

Klaus has no idea.

 

***

 

Klaus isn’t expecting any of the others to come and see him. He knows Diego gave them all the letter to read, because he asked him to, but he’s being let out of the infirmary tomorrow and he figured the others would just wait until then to greet him.

 

So he isn’t expecting the knock on his door later than night, and he really isn’t expecting Five to come creeping in afterwards. Klaus frowns, smiling confusedly. Five looks… distressed, with messy hair and an even messier uniform. He’s even missing the tie.

 

“Hey, Five.” Klaus says, a question in his voice. “I guess you read the letter, then?”

 

Five nods stoically, not exactly giving anything away. “Yeah,” he replies. “We all did. Allison cried. She has your jacket, by the way, but there was no twenty dollars.”

 

“Ah, shit.” Klaus snaps his fingers together in mock disappointment. “Whatever will I do.”

 

“Luther feels like shit.” Five continues, ignoring him for the most part. “He never actually said it, but he got this look on his face that he gets whenever he feels guilty. It’s kind of like a constipated rat sort of look— you’d know if you saw it.”

 

“Um, right.” Klaus nods. “Good to know?”

 

“Vanya broke our chandelier. By accident. She knows how to control her powers for the most part, but strong emotions can mess with them.”

 

“Uh huh...” Klaus replies. Five groans and curls his hands into fists.

 

“What I’m trying to say, Klaus, is that we’re all really fucking sorry. And we want to help you.”

 

Klaus blinks.

“Listen,” Five sighs suddenly, looking up at Klaus for the first time. He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, thank God, but he does look guilty. As guilty as a fifty eight year old time travelling assassin in a thirteen year old’s body can look, anyway. “Diego doesn’t even want to consider this, okay? He wouldn’t want to even accept the possibility, but if you don’t want to move back in with us then I get it. I understand. We fucked up, Klaus. We really screwed things up with you, and I’m sorry.”

 

The unexpected apology takes Klaus by surprise, and he’s speechless for long enough that Five keeps talking despite getting no answer the first time.

 

“I have enough money to last three life times. If you want to leave then take some of it - however much you want - and buy yourself a nice house or something, far away from here. You never have to see us again. I’d get that, if that’s what you wanted.”

 

“But if you want to stay, then… we’re going to try and do better, Klaus. We promised ourselves before that we would be better, and clearly we didn’t do a very good job of that. But I was wrong. You belong here with us, and you have a place here. For as long as you want it.”

 

Klaus gets the feeling that Five doesn’t admit to being wrong very often, and it makes his words all the more important to Klaus. He hadn’t realised he’d been seeking validation from the one person who always seemed to hate him the most, but there you go.

 

“Hey,” Klaus replies, softly so as not to break the tentative atmosphere of forgiveness. “Thanks, man. I— I’ll think about it, yeah?”

 

Five nods and disappears in a flash of blue light without another word. Klaus lies back against his pillows and sighs, drags a hand over his face. To be perfectly honest this had been something he had thought about, quite a bit since waking up actually, and to hear it laid out to him in such simple terms makes it seem all the more easy.

 

But to hear Five say that he belonged here? To hear Five, the one who never even wanted him here in the first place, say that he had a place with their family? That means a lot.

 

It’s an important choice, Klaus thinks, one that requires a lot of thought.

 

But maybe he’s already chosen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this marks the end of the ridiculously long chapters, so phew :D


	12. Chapter 12

2019 - Aged 29:

 

Klaus smokes a joint before he goes out. He’s been staying in an abandoned warehouse with a couple of other homeless people for the past week or so, and technically it wasn’t his pot, but if he’s successful today that isn’t going to matter. He may never have to go back to that place again, if everything goes well.

 

Or not, as well. If things go badly then he could get packed off to prison, and whilst it could potentially be a free bed and food that hasn’t come from a bin, he doubts it would go down like that. They’d look into his background for five minutes and that would be it, he’d be sent back to Germany. As much as his life sucks here, he prefers it to going back to his childhood home, if it can be called that. Klaus isn’t sure how big of an issue he caused back when he was a kid, but he doubts they look upon murderers, hookers or users kindly.

 

He dresses up for the occasion. Dressing down might be a more accurate description, because he’s freezing his ass off in a crop top and a pair of tight jeans. His feet are bare, and sure that means he’ll be able to access his powers with more ease but it also means he’s probably going to get fucking frostbite in his toes. This better be worth it.

 

It wouldn’t be fair to say he got this idea _completely_ from some creep in a drunk tank, but it also wouldn’t be unfair to say that played a big part. He’s robbed places before of course, convenience stores and soft shit like that, but there had been something undeniably tempting about the idea of getting a big enough haul to get him off the streets for good. He could maybe get a home, get a job, get enough to live his life unencumbered with the past.

 

He doesn’t know. He’s never known, really, what the future has in store for him. But the thing he is sure of is that, one way or another, for better or for worse, this is going to change everything.

 

2019 - Aged 29 (Present Day):

 

Klaus trains. Since he got sober and his powers got impossibly stronger he's been tip-toeing around waiting for disaster to strike. It's unnerving; all his life he's just wanted more. More money, more power, more self control, and now he has all of that and he's even more scared than ever.

 

He can understand it in a way - before, if he fucked up and lost control it only impacted him. He could fuck himself over and it would only ever matter to him because he was alone, but now? If he loses control now there are all sorts of dangers that didn't exist before. He could crush Vanya with another flying chandelier or send Five out of the window if he's not careful. He could hurt Diego, and he'd never forgive himself if he did that.

 

So he trains, on his own at first. It's too risky to try his powers in front of the others and there aren't many places in or out of the house where he can train unencumbered. So he asks to see the one place in the building he knows will be able to hold him.

 

Diego had been very against it at first. The others hadn't looked exactly thrilled, but at least Vanya had seemed intrigued by the thought of her childhood prison being turned into a training ground for Klaus to test his new strength. And maybe it wasn't the most conventional idea to do that in the place that they once wanted to lock him up, but Klaus has never been the most ordinary person.

 

All it took was a few minutes of arguing his case and telling them that he didn't want to hurt anybody else for them to agree. He has power over them now, which has nothing to do with his actual power; he's trying not to manipulate them with it, but for things like this he has to. They're too stubborn to agree to it any other way.

 

It's a really fucking depressing place, when he gets down there. Klaus has no idea what he was expecting but he does have a pang of sympathy for Vanya, if this is what she had to live through. Even so, he sticks at it, and he trains.

 

Sometimes they'll come down to keep him company, even if it's just through the door, one at a time. When Vanya creeps down she hovers in the shadows for a few minutes before actually stepping into the light, as though just being down here makes her feel ill.

 

“Hi,” She says, and it’s only then that Klaus notices she’s holding a cardboard box. “How are you?”

 

He must look pretty rough; he’s wearing a baggy pink tank top that’s drenched dark with sweat, and there’s dried blood all over his face. It’s not exactly painful when he uses his powers - just like flexing an overstrained muscle - but it makes blood drip from his nose and his ears.

 

“I’m okay.” Klaus smiles tentatively, running a tired hand through his hair. Vanya frowns doubtfully, so he continues with an unconvincing, “Really!”

 

She shakes her head a little and her eyes dart about anxiously. Klaus shifts, not sure if he’s supposed to comfort her now, but he takes the cardboard box when she offers it to him.

 

“What’s—”

 

“I thought we could redecorate?” Vanya asks quickly, brown hair falling over her face. “A little bit of paint, some drawings maybe? Then it might not be so horrible being down here.”

 

Klaus gets the feeling this is just as much for her as it is for him, and frankly he’s not bothered either way, but this is Vanya reaching out and asking if he wants to spend time with her. Besides, taking a break can’t hurt.

 

There are a few tins of paint in the box: white, blue and pink. Klaus selects one at random and takes the brush Vanya offers him. He’s always liked the idea of painting - make up is just another form of art, right? - and now he has a whole room as his blank canvas.

 

By the time Luther comes down to check on them, they’re covered in paint and giggling uncontrollably. They’d both completely lost track of time and somewhere down the line Vanya had pulled out her phone to start playing music. She’d even joined Klaus in dancing around the basement; Klaus has one hand on a paintbrush and with the other he’s making the blue paint pot hover steady in the air beside him.

 

He’s halfway through drawing Five on a unicycle - and honest to God he has no idea why - when Luther’s shadow falls ominously over the wall. He twitches, a rush of fear hitting him despite his rational mind telling him it’s unnecessary.

 

So maybe he hasn’t fully gotten over what happened, what Luther did, and the sight of a looming, powerful man is still enough to set his heart racing. And not in the fun way.

 

The paint pot tips a little - Klaus’ lost concentration sends it hurtling towards the ground and Vanya only just manages to stick out her hand and hold it in place, a few inches above the ground, in time.

 

“Sorry!” Luther cries, holding his hands up in surrender with a wide eyed, dopey look on his face. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

 

“You didn’t _scare_ me.” Klaus replies archly, ignoring the way his heart is thudding against his rib cage. “You _startled_ me. There’s a difference.”

 

Vanya stifles a snort behind her hand and Luther looks between them shiftily, eyes falling on the life sized mural of Five, angry and balancing on a unicycle. Klaus had been meaning to give him a flower crown, but if the look on Luther’s face is anything to go the picture has already reached its peak.

 

“Um.” He swallows, looks back at Klaus all sincere and hopeful. “Allison and I were just about to eat lunch. Would you… like to join us?”

 

Klaus exchanges a quick glance with Vanya, unsure as to when he started relying on her to make decisions with him. Probably around the time she put on YMCA and spun him like a ballroom dancer.

 

“What are you having?” Vanya asks, reading Klaus’ mind. Klaus can’t be blamed for wanting to make the man squirm a little. Luther blinks dumbly.

 

“Sandwiches?” He replies. Klaus scoffs and starts to turn away, hand poised to take back the paint pot.

 

“Pizza?” Luther guesses again.

 

Klaus drops the paintbrush.

 

***

 

Allison already has pizza on the table by the time the others get upstairs, and though Klaus has no idea how she knew it makes him smile, just a little. Luther takes a seat opposite Allison, and Vanya sits next to Luther pointedly, letting Klaus round the table and take a seat next to Allison: by far the less intimidating of the two.

 

“How’s it going, Klaus?” Allison asks, a little stilted and overly polite, and he gets the sense she doesn't just mean in general.

 

"Slow progress," He answers, falling into the chair fluidly and leaning over for the pizza straight away. He's never really been sure how to act around these two - always just went with however he felt at the time - but now he's even more unsure than ever. He's falling back on casualness and a faux carefree attitude; no one other than Diego has ever acknowledged the letter to his face, and he hopes to God they never do.

 

"I can now levitate again without shooting through the roof, so that's a thing." He continues, rolling the pizza up and feeding it into his mouth all at once. He hears Vanya choke on a sip of water.

 

"That's gross." Ben complains next to him.

 

"It really is, actually." Allison laughs, and Klaus has rolled his eyes dramatically before he realises—

 

" _Ben_?" Vanya says, sounding incredulous. It's obvious they've all been wanting to ask him about it and he wonders briefly if Diego told them not to. Ben blinks, eyes wide and hopeful, as he looks down at himself. Klaus, who hadn't even noticed Ben was corporeal, doesn't feel the usual headache he always gets when he uses his powers.

 

"Is this..." Ben starts, voice breaking on the first word. It looks like there are tears building in his eyes, but Klaus can't be sure. "Really happening?”

 

“Holy shit,” someone says, Klaus has no idea who, and he can’t help but agree. He’s sitting stunned into silence in his own chair but he’s half expecting Allison or Vanya to leap up and hug Ben. Allison, more likely, because from what he knows of Vanya she doesn’t seem much like a hugger.

 

What is isn’t expecting is for Luther to let out a broken, wet noise like a sniffle and a sob at the same time, or for him to lunge over the table to grab Ben by the shoulders. The table wobbles a little as Luther’s knees straighten up and knock against the edge, and the cutlery clatter around noisily, but nobody pays that any attention. Luther looks a little wild, a little frayed around the edges, and even Ben seems surprised when he moves his hands to cup each side of Ben’s face.

 

“ _Ben_ ,” he whimpers, and Ben, wide eyed and frightened, wraps his arms around his brother dazedly. “Oh god, oh my god _fuck_ , Ben. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I never got the chance to say it before. I should have saved you, it should have been me.”

 

Ben grips Luther back just as hard, chin resting on his shoulder looking a little shell shocked to say the least. Klaus supposes it makes sense in a way; Luther has always been Number One. It was his job to take care of his siblings, and he didn’t, and then they didn't all over again and he still didn’t. Klaus knows all about guilt, but this looks like guilt on an astronomical level, and all he can do is sit back and let Luther get it all out of his system.

 

“Shut up,” Ben replies shakily, not letting go of Luther or stepping away. He’s been denied human contact for so long that it’s no surprise he’s drinking it in now. “You’re an idiot, holy shit, you’re all such complete _idiots_. First Vanya and then Klaus? What were you _thinking_? God, if I had been there none of this would have— and you tried to— it’s been so _long_!”

 

“I know,” Luther is whispering, face buried against Ben’s neck. “I know. I’m sorry.” And then Vanya and Allison are both standing up, huddling closer so they can wrap their arms around one or both of their brothers. It’s a touching scene that; one that Klaus should admire from afar. Five said he belongs, and he believes him in a way, but this moment is between siblings and Klaus recognises that maybe he should let them have some privacy.

 

He’s just sneaking through the door with a pizza box all to himself - because, c’mon, he’s still hungry - when Allison catches him by the arm. He turns round quickly, startled, to see Vanya, Ben and Luther still locked in a strange, frozen embrace. Klaus turns back to Allison, eyebrows furrowed.

 

“What—”

 

“I never apologised.” She blurts out suddenly, face flushing and her hand automatically going up to brush through her hair, a nervous gesture that Klaus can relate to. “I mean, after you woke up, I never got a chance to apologise to your face. No, that’s… not right. I did. Get a chance, I mean, I just never took it. So I’m sorry for that, and I’m sorry for everything that happened.”

 

“Allison,” Klaus starts with trepidation. “You don’t—”

 

“No, I do. I’m sorry, Klaus, for everything that I did and for how I played a part in everything that happened to you. Sometimes I can just be a bitch and when that happens other people get hurt. It’s not an excuse, I know, but I just want you to know that you’re… well. You’re— I’m just,” She squeezes her eyes shut for a brief second and shakes her head, frustrated. “Shit, I really suck at this.”

 

She darts away before Klaus can say anything in response to whatever that was, but she’s back less than a minute later with something dark and fluffy draped over her arm. As she gets closer Klaus gets a better look at what it is, and when he does he almost feels like laughing. Laughing or crying, one of the two.

 

“No twenty dollars, sorry, but I figured you might want this back.” She hands him his jacket, the one he wedged underneath her head when he found her unconscious on the floor. The one she apparently washed and kept with her so that she could give it back to him, clean and fresh but still his.

 

“Thank you.” Klaus says, as sincerely as his choked up tone will allow. And then, “Allison,”

 

She looks up at him, eyes suspiciously damp.

 

“You’re not a bitch. No more than I am, at least.” Klaus tells her seriously, laying his palm over the back of her hand for a second as he takes his jacket back and hangs it over his shoulders. Allison blinks and then a slow smile spreads across her face. She nods once, a message sent and received, before she glances over her shoulder at the chaotic reunion ongoing behind her. They have a lot to talk about, and he figures he should get going, but he’ll leave in a considerably better mood than he woke up this morning.

 

Klaus leaves the kitchen with plans to go clothes shopping with Allison and a restless desire to _do_ _something_. He was cooped up in that hospital bed for so long, and even though he’s out and about now he still feels antsy and bored. He wants his lungs to burn with breathlessness and his muscles to ache with exertion or he’s going to go crazy in here and start craving a bit more than ever. He’s considering asking Five if he wants to spar, but when he idles last the training room all he sees is Diego standing alone, ruthlessly attacking a punching bag.

 

His relationship with Diego has been… strange, lately. It’s not necessarily that he’s been spending time with the man; it’s more like Diego hasn’t let Klaus out of his sight but he also won’t actually talk to him. It’s like back when he was training, and Diego would stand for hours just watching him from the sidelines. The only time he’s ever not around is when he’s sleeping, showering or training, the latter of which he obviously does a lot.

 

Diego is especially beautiful now, when he’s caught off guard. He’s topless and glistening with sweat that Klaus just wants to lick off, sticking his hair to his forehead. He clearly hasn’t shaved for a while and stubble has grown in, scruffy and sharp across his jaw. He sort of makes Klaus want to drop to his knees and simultaneously curl up with a blanket over his head forever.

 

Klaus leans against the doorframe for a minute, enjoying how he can just watch Diego without having to explain himself. He watches how Diego’s muscles ripple under his skin, the way sweat rolls down his back tantalisingly.

 

“Klaus?” Diego says suddenly, startled, and Klaus looks up innocently to see Diego watching him right back. He looks a little alarmed, a little cornered, like maybe he shouldn’t be in such close proximity to Klaus.

 

“Can I join?” Klaus answers, pushing himself away from the door and stepping daintily over towards the ring. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, restless and desperately hoping Diego won’t say no to him getting in the ring and training.

 

“Um,” Diego holds the punching bag steady for a second before he’s hurrying over to Klaus, holding a hand out to help him hop into the ring. Klaus hesitates a second before he takes it - it’s only a second, and only because if he touches Diego skin on skin right now he’s not sure he’d be able to stop - but Diego must sense it. His face crumples for a second before the mask of neutrality is back in place. Klaus takes the hand.

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? You only just got out of— well. The infirmary, I guess. There’s no rush, we can. Um. I can go and get Allison if you want?” Diego’s hands flutter by his sides as he rambles, never once staying still for more than five seconds.

 

“I just saw Allison.” Klaus replies, and hopes Diego will see that as the answer it is.

 

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Or maybe Vanya? Five might be—”

 

“ _Diego_ ,” Klaus sighs, speaking insistently. Then, quieter, “I want you.”

 

Diego blinks, speechless, with his emotions laid out like an open book in his eyes. He nods once, tearing his gaze away from Klaus, and turns, the line of his shoulders stiff. An impenetrable shell.

 

“Right.” He says. “Okay. Well, normal rules. First one to tap out—”

 

“Is the rotten egg?” Klaus finishes, and even though it most certainly isn’t what Diego had been about to say it gets a strangled half laugh out of him, so Klaus counts it as a win.

 

Fighting with Diego is still as exhilarating, still as unpredictable and dangerous and _fun_ as it had been the first time. He doesn’t waste time, doesn’t circle around Klaus until he’s dizzy like Luther sometimes did; he jumps in straight away, all darting limbs and aggression, a fighter on the attack, in a way that always left Klaus breathless. Now though?

 

After the third strike in a row that Klaus easily manages to dodge, he reaches out and shoves Diego in the chest. Diego stumbles backwards a few steps without even putting up much of a fight. That tells Klaus enough and he groans, frustrated.

 

“You’re pulling your punches.” He accuses angrily. Diego doesn’t even try to deny it, just holds up his hands and shrugs, unapologetically.

 

“You’re _hurt_ , Klaus.” He says back, patient like he always seems to be these days. Klaus kicks the floor, resists the urge to stamp his foot because that actually would make him a toddler.

 

“I’m fine!” He retorts, in considerably less of a good mood than when he’d said the same thing to Vanya. “You don’t need to baby me. I’m fine.”

 

He tries to fall back into the rhythm of the fight but it’s still not right; Diego isn’t really fighting him, just dancing around him in a cheap imitation of it. Klaus, upset about a lot more than just a botched fight, hooks his ankle around Diego’s leg and sweeps them out from under him. Diego falls suddenly, and Klaus really didn’t think this through because he’s still tangled around the man’s legs. When Diego falls, Klaus falls with him.

 

They end up on the floor in a mess of limbs, Diego on the floor with Klaus a dead weight on top of him. Klaus needs a moment to catch his breath - and Diego, who doesn’t seem particularly exerted but it silent anyway just staring up at Klaus - so the only noise is their heavy breathing, and it echoes around the big room.

 

“Fight me,” Klaus says. Diego quirks an eyebrow, amused, and now is _really_ not the time. “I _mean_ it!” He continues, pushing himself up a little so that he’s no longer chest to chest with Diego and punching his arm weakly.

 

“Klaus—” Diego tries.

 

“Hit me, you asshole.” Klaus is struggling to push himself up, hands scrabbling at Diego’s bare chest, and he doesn’t even have it in him to wrestle out of Diego’s hold when he wraps a single hand around both of Klaus’ wrists. “Fucking _hit_ _me_!”

 

Diego moves faster than Klaus can react, getting his feet flat on the floor and flipping them over easily so that Klaus is on the floor, flat on his back with Diego above him. He has a knee either side of Klaus’ hips and a hand either side of his head, and Klaus knows how strange it would look to anyone walking past: panting and breathless, staring at each other in frozen, suspenseful silence. Diego’s pupils are blown wide and feral, and Klaus can only imagine what his own look like.

 

It’s been so long. Well, it hasn’t really, but so many things have happened since Diego last looked at him like this that it feels like years. It feels like too long, since Diego last watched him with a careful, hungry look in his eye, that it’s addictive to have that attention focused back on him. Klaus soaks it up, lets his mouth fall open a little and bites his bottom lip.

 

“Klaus,” Diego starts, eyes darting down to follow the movement with a rigid control, and then Klaus is rising up off the floor and kissing him.

 

Diego falls into it straight away, opening his mouth and kissing Klaus wet and warm and filthy until it feels like Klaus is suffocating with Diego’s lips on his. There’s spit smeared all around his mouth and chin and cheeks but he doesn’t know what’s his and what’s Diego’s, and he doesn’t much care. The only thing he can care about is the leg Diego presses in between his, hard muscle a solid pressure against his cock.

 

Klaus whines, body tensing as his fingers scrabble at the floor and he wraps his legs around Diego’s waist. He’s hard and leaking precome in his sweatpants, desperate for Diego to just touch him - anywhere, in any way, _please_ \- that he doesn’t care if he has to rub off against the man’s leg. He’ll do it, if it means he gets to come.

 

“Diego,” Klaus pants, eyes fluttering shut. Diego lowers himself so that he’s resting on his forearms and uses his free hand to stroke Klaus’ cheek, fingertips dancing over his skin so soft and teasing that Klaus shudders. “Been so long.”

 

Even if it’s not entirely accurate Diego seems to know what he means.

 

“I know, sweetheart.” He murmurs, rubbing his thumb over Klaus’ bottom lip. He pushes just the tip past Klaus’ lips to rest it on his tongue until Klaus is drooling on it, the taste of skin and salt and sweat heavy and delicious all around him.

 

“I’ve got you,” Diego continues, voice so low and slow and sultry that Klaus can already feel himself slipping. He wants to let go and let it happen but also he doesn’t, because there’s been so much lately that he hasn’t been in control of and he doesn’t want this to be just another example of that. “I’m right here.”

 

And Klaus keens, arches his back off the floor so that he rubs against Diego’s bare chest, warm and soft with a heartbeat that Klaus can feel steady under the skin. It’s easy for Diego to slip a second finger into Klaus’ mouth, a second and then a third, and then he’s choking on it. All he can see and smell and taste is Diego, all around him, invading every sense he could possibly have and it’s still not enough.

 

“Fuck me,” Klaus breathes, so inaudible that even he is not sure he ever said them out loud. Diego hums, fucks his fingers in and out of Klaus’ mouth real shallow and casual so that when he pulls them out they’re slick and glistening with spit.

 

“What was that?” Diego asks, in a voice that commands an answer, and tilts Klaus’ chin upwards with the same fingers that are covered in his own saliva.

 

“Fuck me, _please_.” Klaus says, louder this time, so loud it bounces off the walls and thrumming through his veins like electricity. He’s vibrating with pent up energy and sagging with inexplicable exhaustion, with no idea how to make his way through this to the other side. He’s trusting Diego, he realises, to get him there in one piece. Or if not in one piece then to be able to put him back together again once they’re finished.

 

“Okay, it’s okay, baby. I’m here, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” His hand slips down Klaus’ face and leaves a trail of sticky wetness on his face, making him shiver as it’s exposed to the cool air of the training room. His hand brushes a nipple through the thin fabric of Klaus’ tank top and it hardens to the touch, pebbling up through the fabric. Diego leans down to suck a wet kiss over his nipple, through his clothes, at the same time that his hand slips under the waistband of Klaus’ sweatpants.

 

Klaus moans and shivers in the same moment, urging his hips upwards, pressing his cock against the sharp jut of Diego’s hipbone. Diego makes it look easy to slip Klaus’ pants over his ass and down his legs, off at the feet and in a heap on the floor behind them both, when Klaus knows he would have fumbled helplessly if he’d tried.

 

Klaus wraps his legs around Diego’s waist without needing to be told, so that when Diego’s hand ghosts over his cock - he’s so fucking hard, curved and leaking against his belly, he just needs Diego to touch him - it’s easy for the man to slip his slick fingers over Klaus’ entrance.

 

He rubs circles over the Klaus’ hole for a few seconds as Klaus chokes on his own saliva, trying to get used to the sensation again.

 

“There you go, just like that. I’m gonna do all the work, okay? Gonna make you come, baby.” Diego whispers, filthy and sublime into his ear, and Klaus can only shake in his arms and cant his hips backwards to try and get Diego’s fingers to slip inside.

 

“No, don’t, just c’mon.” Klaus whimpers when Diego slides his index finger inside, just up to the first knuckle. It’s thick and wonderful and not nearly enough; he doesn’t want to be prepped. He doesn’t want to wait. He just wants more and he wants it now. He needs Diego inside of him right fucking now.

 

“Klaus,” Diego murmurs, thrusting shallowly into Klaus and forcing a pleasure-pain grunt out of him every time. “Easy, I’m not going to hurt you.”

 

The first tear spills out over his cheek and clumps in his eyelashes, and he tastes salt on his own lips. When Diego gets two fingers inside him he lets out a sound he didn’t even know he was capable of making - a pathetic little, “Nnngh,” that would have him blushing bright fucking cherry if he wasn’t already - and Diego grins lopsidedly, like he’s pleased with himself.

 

“That’s enough,” Klaus pants. He’s still wearing his flappy pink tank top and nothing else, only now it’s soaked through with sweat and spit and precome as well as being splattered with paint. When it looks like Diego is about to open his mouth to argue Klaus fucks himself onto his fingers a little harder, a little deeper, and levels him with the dirtiest look he can manage.

 

“I swear to god, Diego,” He starts. “If you don’t fuck me right now I will do it myself.”

 

Diego inhales sharply and, with the hand that isn’t currently knuckles deep inside Klaus he grabs Klaus by the throat, shaking him a little like a rag doll. When his eyes focus again, Diego looks fucking ravenous.

 

“Is that how you talk to me, sweetheart?” He asks, voice sickly sweet. “You think you can get away with that? Huh?” Klaus can feel all the blood in his body rushing either to his dick or his face, and his eyes are going blurry again. His lungs burn and his chest heaves and, hey, this is exactly what he wanted.

 

“No,” he gasps out between the rhythmic squeezes of his neck: Diego allowing him air.

 

“No?” Diego raises an eyebrow and scissors his fingers inside Klaus tenderly, motions at odds with his words.

 

“No, sir.” Klaus corrects himself. Diego rewards him by smiling, leaning down to plant an almost chaste kiss to his forehead before sliding his fingers out. Klaus doesn’t even have time to whine about feeling so empty, so wanton, because then Diego’s hands are at his own waistband and he’s shoving his trousers down around his thighs.

 

There’s something undeniably hot about the way Diego fucks him, now, with his trousers only halfway down and his arms thick and sturdy holding him above the ground, Klaus’ legs wrapped around his waist koala style. Diego fucks him animalistically, no rhythm to it. Just Diego, chasing his own pleasure by rutting into Klaus’ body, and in doing so dragging Klaus closer and closer to the edge with every thrust.

 

The way Diego is looking at him is addictive as well. Diego is treating him like he’s just a hole to fuck and looking at him like he hung the fucking moon and Klaus can’t handle it, it’s too much too soon.

 

“Diego,” he pants, hands scrabbling at Diego’s back and his short fingernails no doubt leaving marks on the skin. “Sir.”

 

Diego slides a hand up Klaus’ body up to his face, cupping his cheek in one hand. Their faces are so close that Klaus can feel it every time Diego thrusts - a short, sharp little exhalation that tells of how much control he has right now even if it doesn’t seem like it.

 

“Klaus,” Diego whispers, eyes suspiciously glossy. “Baby, sweetheart.”

 

And then he kisses Klaus, and Klaus comes between their bodies like a slow build of pressure that’s finally reached boiling point. He comes and he cries because Diego is fucking him through it relentlessly, kissing him like he always wants to be kissed, petting his hair and calling him a good boy and coming inside him, so deep that Klaus thinks it’ll be there forever.

 

Diego pulls out of him when he’s gone soft, leaving a sticky trail of come and spit over his ass. They lay panting side by side, and Diego is the first one to throw an arm over Klaus’ chest and huddle closer. They’re in the middle of the floor in the family’s freezing public training room, naked and sweat soaked and lazy from their shared orgasm, yet Diego still pulls him closer. Still holds him. Still wants to be held by him.

 

“Okay?” Diego asks, sleepy and concerned and so, so perfect.

 

“Okay.” Klaus confirms. If anyone walks in on them then that just sucks for them, doesn’t it, because Klaus doesn’t feel like leaving any time soon.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I think to myself, “Okay, this one will be an acceptable length for a chapter!” and every time I am wrong <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out this awesome [artwork!](https://soronya.tumblr.com/post/184690956521/klaus-and-vanya-decorating-the-prison-room-this)

Klaus is in the living room when Five strolls in, actually bodily walking this time as opposed to zapping into the room out of nowhere. Klaus is stretched out on the sofa, head resting in Diego's lap with the TV remote laying abandoned on his chest. Diego is carding his fingers through Klaus' hair and stroking the back of his hand down Klaus' cheek, soft and warm and gentle. Whatever is playing on the TV has been long forgotten as Klaus stares up at Diego and captures his hand, guiding the man's fingers towards his mouth to suck on his fingertips distractedly, without intent.

 

Allison and Luther are perched on the edge of the sofa opposite, sitting far too close together to be considered casual, but wisely no one to chooses to comment on it. Vanya is perched on the arm of the armchair, Ben sat in the seat, attempting to high five over and over. Klaus' powers in regards to Ben wane on and off: sometimes Ben will just be there for hours without Klaus having to exert any strength and other times he'll strain his power until his nose drips blood just for five minutes of Ben being corporeal. Today, thankfully, is the former and Klaus can relax into Diego's body without having to split his concentration in half.

 

Everybody looks up in unison when Five strolls in, and if it weren't for the sour look on Five's face it would be hilarious. Allison straightens up in her chair and exchanges an amused glance with Diego.

 

"Um," she starts. "Five? You okay there, buddy?"

 

Five scowls at her, but he hurls something at the nearest sofa that lands on Klaus' stomach with a heavy, painful thunk. He curls up with a muttered, 'oof' and ignores the butterflies in his stomach when Diego stretches his arm out and massages his belly, glaring at Five.

 

"Was that necessary?" He asks cuttingly. Five shrugs.

 

"I found it in Grace's room. I made a few adjustments."

 

"What were you doing in mom's room?" Ben asks, frowning.

 

"Irrelevant." Five replies, but his voice is soft. Seeing Ben again for the first time had been an interesting experience for Five, in that he had become less of the snarky asshole they all knew and more of the kid he must have been before everything went wrong. Klaus had respectfully turned away after the five minute mark of their hug, and pointedly hadn't said anything when Five's voice was a little hoarser then usual. 

 

"What is it?" Vanya asks, peering into Klaus' lap as he picks it up. It's a book, heavy and thick, with a hardback cover and no words anywhere in sight. Klaus draws his knees up to his chest and shuffles backwards so that his back is pressed up against Diego's front; when he feels Diego's hand squeeze the back of his neck, just once as a comfort, he relaxes and opens the book.

 

"Holy shit," Klaus whispers, a slow grin spreading over his face. He can sense Diego hovering over his shoulder to get a look, senses the sharp inhale as he sees what it is.

 

On the first page are a collection of photos, worn, aged and dogeared around the corners: they have captions written under them in neat calligraphy that is undoubtedly Grace's handwriting. Klaus is barely aware of the others gathering round behind the sofa, barely conscious of Ben's cold hand gliding over his shoulder or Allison's chin resting on the top of Diego's head to see.

 

"Is that... us?" Luther asks quietly, voice suspiciously choked up. Klaus nods delightedly, flicks through each page. Grace has graciously left out any pictures of Reginald or the children during their training exercises. Instead there are pictures of them dating from when they were babies to recent years; each one with their number - and eventually their name - underneath. There's Luther as a baby in the bath, Diego as a toddler  with his hands wrist deep in some sticky cake mixture, Allison and Vanya applying make up messily as ten year olds, Five and Ben curled up in library chairs as teenagers with open books in their laps. Klaus is sure they all must notice the lack of pictures of Ben soon after that, but nobody comments on it. He's here now: that's all that matters.

 

"You were such a cute baby!" Klaus coos at Diego. "Oh my god, _look_ at you!"

 

When he looks at Diego, his eyes are glossed over. "I— I had no idea she t–took these." He replies, sounding almost reverent. Klaus is definitely reverent when he brings Diego's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles.

 

"What did you mean by adjustments?" Ben asks Five, who is standing a little to the side and watching them with an exasperatedly fond look.

 

"Flick to the back." He smiles, and it's so out of character that Klaus holds his breath as he turns the pages, nervous of what he'll find.

 

There are only a few pages at the back where the photos look newer - in better condition - than the rest of the book but Klaus knows what he means straight away. Stuck in along the rest of them are pictures of Klaus, snapshots of moments he hadn't even been aware were being documented. There's one of him in the basement, surrounded by paint and abstract colours. There's one of him curled up asleep, hovering a couple of feet above the sofa. There's one of him and Diego holding hands over the kitchen table.

 

"Five," Klaus starts, tears gathering unstoppably in his eyes. He has no idea what he actually wants to say, but he has to say something because this is everything Klaus has always wanted. This is perfect— it's acceptance. This is _family_.

 

And then he doesn't end up saying anything, because he's leaping off the couch and wrapping Five up in a bone crushing hug. Five freezes and let's out a surprised, high pitched squeak. He doesn’t exactly hug Klaus back, but that’s okay, he wasn’t expecting him too. This book is as much proof that Klaus needs to know Five does care about him, at least a little.

 

“It doesn’t matter, you know.” Five mutters grumpily, kicking at the ground and scuffing his shoes like the thirteen year old he most certainly isn’t. “We don’t get to just live happily ever after, just because you two are in love or whatever.” Next to him, Diego tenses. “The Commission are still after me.”

 

“Us.” Allison says suddenly from somewhere behind them. “They’re after us.”

 

Klaus nods, throat feeling suspiciously tight. “This time,” He says, and one hundred percent means it. “We’ll be ready.”

 

***

 

“I want to become a citizen.” Klaus says unexpectedly, dropping himself down onto the mattress next to Diego. They’re in Klaus’ room, because Allison actually took Klaus out shopping earlier in the week and he decked himself out with a basketful of fairy lights and bead curtains. He’s been debating bringing the paints up to his room as well, but he’s kind of afraid of what Five will do if he finds anymore life-size paintings of himself dotted around the mansion.

 

Diego is in his bed, their bed, propped up against the headboard and naked from the waist up. The covers are draped over his hips temptingly: nipple piercing shining in the light from the bedside lamp, washboard abs that Klaus wants to lick all over, a smattering of hair on his chest. To top it all off he has reading glasses perched on the end of his nose and a book in his hand. Whoever said reading wasn’t sexy?

 

“Um,” Diego frowns and looks up at Klaus, crawling up the bed towards him, from over the top of his book. “Huh?”

 

Klaus rolls his eyes dramatically and shimmies under the covers, worming his cold feet in between Diego’s legs and carefully leaning across the bed to take off his glasses. He folds them neatly and rests them on the nightstand, next going for the book and tossing that to the floor with considerably less care, a bratty, ‘ _you_ _won’t_ _be_ _needing_ _this_ ’ going unsaid.

 

“Legally, I mean.” He continues, resting his chin on Diego’s chest and wrinkling his nose when Diego kisses his forehead, wet and gross. He swipes the back of his hand across his face. “Gross. I never did it, though.”

 

“What?” Diego asks, blinking in confusion, and to be fair Klaus isn’t making all that much sense.

 

“I never became a legal citizen! Jeez, keep up old man. I want to be a out and proud American.”

 

“We were literally born on the same day—” Diego tries to object, until Klaus shuts him up with his lips and tongue, nipping at his bottom lip teasingly. “Okay, okay! That’s doable. You just have to take a test, right?” Klaus groans, because he’s really not such a massive fan of tests these days.

 

“I could always marry you for a green card.” Klaus jokes, fingers playing absentmindedly with Diego’s nipple ring, sliding it in slow circles. Diego looks up at this, eyes wide in the way they are when he just had a ‘brilliant idea.’ As gently as possible, Klaus says, “Diego. No.”

 

Diego deflates.

 

There’s silence then, comfortable and easy. Klaus had been so scared, so shut off and wary, when they had first started doing whatever it is they’re doing all over again. Dating, he supposed, but is it still dating if you’ve never actually been on a date? But lying here, curled up into Diego’s side warm and soft and safe, he can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be. Things are going to be different this time around, no doubt about it.

 

“I would, you know.” Klaus murmurs, closing his eyes and letting the rhythmic rise and fall of Diego’s breathing lull him to sleep. Diego makes a sleep, questioning noise that Klaus feels vibrating through his chest. “Marry you. I would. Just maybe… not yet.”

 

Diego inhales shakily, hand coming up to rest on Klaus’ head; his fingers wind around Klaus’ hair and scratch over his scalp until Klaus is practically purring. “Klaus,” He starts. “About what Five said earlier.”

 

“Mmm, don’t.” Klaus hums, feeling more content than he can remember being in such a long time. He knows instinctively which part of Five’s monologue he’s talking about. “You don’t have to say anything.”

 

“No, Klaus, I want to. I—”

 

“Diego.” Klaus says softly, lifting his head to blink at him owlishly for the first time that night. “You really don’t. I love you. I’m here, you’re here. That’s all that matters. The rest is confetti.” There’s a pause where Klaus thinks Diego is mulling over his incredibly romantic declaration, or perhaps wondering how to make his own equally meaningful. Then—

 

“Isn’t that from a TV show?” Diego asks, amusement clear in his voice. Klaus flicks his nipple.

 

“Asshole,” he mutters. “Ruining my love confession. I take it all back.”

 

“No, no!” Diego snickers, using his other hand to trace a finger lightly under Klaus’ chin and draw him up for a kiss. One turns to two, and then three and then they all merge into one as Klaus sucks on Diego’s bottom lip gently, just the barest hint of moisture on their lips. When they separate a string of saliva connects their mouths, and Klaus can feel heat building up low and insistent.

 

“I’m kidding,” Diego says, grin melting away into something softer and fonder, more sincere. “I really do love you, Klaus. I’m _going_ to love you, how you deserve to be loved. I promise.”

 

Klaus smiles against Diego’s skin, and feels his words throughout his whole body. “You already do, silly.” He says.

 

It’s like Five says, he guesses. The Commission are still after them: this isn’t perfection, not even a cheap imitation of it. But it feels pretty fucking good all the same. If this isn’t happily ever after, Klaus doesn’t know what is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am... emotional 
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think <3


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